It's A Screamer's World
by Ceris Malfoy
Summary: Various drabbles revolving around Starscream that will probably never be completed or turned into the full-length fics they should be. All are up for grabs. Inspired by Rorschach's Blot's Odd Ideas. Newest chapter: Working For It.
1. By Any Other Name

**Drabble #1:** By Any Other Name…

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Optimus Prime and a high-ranking Decepticon find themselves at the mercy of a mech they never thought could defeat the both of them in combat at the same time. Just how far will a mech go to ensure vengeance?

**Inspiration:** In the TFWiki, I came across the chart of alternate names in various versions of G1 that Starscream has. One of those is the alternate name of "Pretty Poison". I got to thinking about that name, and this was born. There are three or four parts to this drabble.

**Status:** WIP

**Continuity**: AU!G1 with some IDW references.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Optimus Prime sighed and stared forlornly down at his fellow prisoner whose helm he held almost tenderly in his lap. His voice reflected his guilt and his frustration with their situation.

Crimson optics narrowed and brief burst of static erupted from the injured mech's mouth – all he was capable of after having his vocalizer savaged by wicked claws and some sort of corrosive agent. Nevertheless, Optimus knew this mech well enough to catch the meaning.

_You're a fool._

Yes, he supposed he was. After all, here he was, sharing a cell with the enemy, trying vainly to figure out how to get them _both_ out of this mess; here he was with the enemy's head in his lap, one hand gently caressing the only spot that wasn't dented, scratched, corroded, or covered in drying energon.

He sighed again, and offlined his optics. How had it come to this?

How indeed. When the challenge came, he had been so sure, so _arrogant_, in his belief that between the two of them they could win…. He had forgotten that the Decepticons were aptly named, and apparently had not been the only one to do so. The challenge had been accepted eagerly by the both of them, and before the entirety of both the Decepticon and the Autobot armies, the both of them had been virtually torn apart.

By a single, solitary mech.

"It wasn't supposed to end up like _this_," he said again, this time anger coloring his voice. His cellmate offlined his optics, facial plating shifting to reflect his internal disgust with Optimus' continued whining.

"Is that so? How then, was it supposed to end?"

The smooth, mocking voice of their captor had him jerking in startled surprise, while his cellmate struggled to place his back against the wall as quickly as possible – fear burning bright in crimson optics even if the mech's facial plates revealed none of it. Although there was fear twisting within his own spark, Optimus knew that his cellmate had more reasons to be afraid then he did.

After all, how long had Megatron so casually abused his second, confident and sure that the seeker was absolutely no threat?

In the doorway to their cell, Starscream stood, smile growing both sharper and smugger by the second.

* * *

**So, I'm totally obsessed with Starscream. I know this, and am not ashamed to admit it. ^^ That being said, I seem to have a very different picture of him than most other writers on , as most writers tend to make him horribly submissive. Yes, I am aware that he's a whiny bitch in most continuities. But I am most familiar with his IDW characterizations, in which he is marvelously badass. Hell, even his TF:A version is pretty good - not as good as IDW!Screamer, but pretty decent all the same. I've been dying for some Screamer action that doesn't involve him crying/getting raped/being abused/generally needing someone to play hero. **

**None of these drabbles are connected to each other, and all of them are up for grabs. You get inspired by one of them and want to go play? Totally cool by me. Just give a bit of credit, k? Mind you, some of these aren't finished, and some of them might not have anything to do with Starscream - I'm pretty sure I'll end up putting all my TF drabbles in here as "specials". Lolz.**


	2. Paranoia: A Game

**Drabble #2:** Paranoia: A Game

**Summary:** Starscream's in the brig, again.

**Inspiration:** I dunno. This is really just a random drabble. I had started it intending on making it a very twisted Megatron/Starscream/Shockwave sandwich, but… Well, the plot bunny died half-way through, and I can't, for the life of me, remember how it was supposed to finish. So it's open season. XD

**Status:** As finished as it's gonna get.

**Continuity**: Can be any of them, but I personally prefer either TF:A or G1. Pre-Earth.

* * *

It was still.

Not the peaceful stillness of content living; no, not that at all. It was a strange stillness, one that Starscream was wholly familiar with. It was a breathless anticipation; a creeping sense of paranoia. In times such as these, Starscream knew, past memories and sleepless ghosts often rose from whatever depths one had flung them to. In times such as these, Starscream often found himself unable to recharge, contemplating life and his various memories of it.

Of course, the ever-present ache of having had his wings torn off by an enraged Megatron probably wasn't helping his inability to get some rest. Sighing, he sat up and leaned against the only solid wall of his cell, nearly crying in relief as the cool metal eased the pain.

He felt wrong without his wings: incomplete and naked.

Starscream hadn't been a Decepticon for as long as many of the mechs in Megatron's army, only seven or eight vorns, but already he had been a visitor of the brig often enough that he even had his own cell. (There was even a metal plate that read 'Starscream's cell' to prove it.)

Normally, the dark, confined space made him highly twitchy – he was a seeker, after all, and no seeker was comfortable being confined underground. Though he longed to see the stars and moons during the depths of night, though he longed to feel the wind on his face, as of right now, he was _very_ happy to be where he was.

He had tried to kill Megatron today.

Granted, the two of them had this routine almost down pat: he plotted, attacked, got beaten to slag, put in _his_ cell for an orn or two, got fixed, and was back on regular duty with nary a word said about the experience.

Rinse, repeat.

The part about this that was worrying Starscream was the fact that someone _else_ was butting in on the game.

Someone out to kill _him_.

He had been living on the edge of paranoid panic for the past for orns, his every sensor activated to their highest level of sensitivity. Megatron, the stupid slagger, had been highly amused at his state of being. (Although _how_ the fragging glitch had managed to find out about the assassination attempts was beyond his ability to figure out, as _he_ certainly hadn't said anything about it!)

Megatron's growing amusement and blatant mockery had not helped matters at all.

Starscream had found that, much to his own surprise, his already highly volatile temper was particularly explosive these days. It was _why_ he was in this cell without a pair of wings right now.

One second, he had been listening to Megatron mock him about his most recent bout of (deservedly) excessive paranoia, and the next thing he knew, his servo's were practically buried in the tyrant's chassis. Apparently he had been determined to _claw_ his way completely through the other mech.

Megatron, for all that Starscream _knew_ he enjoyed their twisted relationship of kill-beat-annoy, had _not_ appreciated this.

* * *

**I dunno. I wish I could remember how the rest of it went. *sighs***


	3. And Thus the Serpent is Born

**Drabble #3:** And Thus the Serpent is Born

**Summary:** Starscream contemplates his life as a Decepticon, and doesn't like what he sees.

**Inspiration:** This started out as just a way for Starscream to angst, but the plot bunny abruptly mutated on me, and made me write IDW!Drift's story instead. I kept the parts that were originally 'Screamer's to include here. Then I got to thinking, and added some other parts. Lolz. Almost posted this as its own story, but decided not to.

**Status:** Finished?

**Continuity**: IDW's All Hail Megatron, pre-Earth, but after the war leaves Cybertron (pre-SIC, too)

* * *

Starscream stared out at the cold, empty vastness of deep space as it passed him by, trying to ignore the equally cold, empty hole that was growing in his spark.

When he had joined the Decepticon cause, he had thought that he was making the correct decision for both him and his trine. He had thought that Megatron would lead them to greatness, that he would absolve the deep hatred and degradation the middle- and lower-class mechs had to suffer, that he would truly make Cybertron great.

He had joined eagerly because Megatron was already a legend of greatness – the only mech to have defied the Senate and lived to tell the tale. He had joined because Megatron had promised, in rally after rally, that he would bring an end to the injustices those not privileged enough to be tower-born had to suffer. He had promised that he would bring about a new world of glory and peace where they could raise their sparklings safely.

"Megatron" had been the name whispered in his audios. "Megatron will lead us to greatness." "Megatron will save us." "Megatron will keep our sparklings safe." But most importantly: "Megatron will give us our revenge."

So he had joined.

And now look at him. Just another seeker in a small armada of them; a petty murderer and thief with the death of countless races weighing on his spark. Despite his skills, despite his intelligence, he was just …one more in the ranks. _Disposable_.

Starscream clenched his servos and hissed angrily.

And then he paused as a random thought crossed his processor. He paused, and allowed himself to follow that train of thought, to contemplate it and savor it.

_But what if I were to make myself __**invaluable**__?_

A wicked grin, full of danger and mischief, settled firmly on his thin lips. Crimson optics flared, burning once again with the destructive fire that had driven him into joining in the first place.

He abruptly turned and stalked down the corridor, absently making sure his null-rays were at full-power.

He had an Air Commander to …_misplace_.

* * *

**So, popular theory in fandom is that Starscream literally clawed his way through the ranks. It's been suggested that this happened either before or just after the war broke out. I just wanted to try something a little new. XD I have this image in my head of Starscream standing before Megatron with an expression of innocence: "I'm sorry my Lord, but I don't know how he got like that." Lolz.**


	4. Wanna Bet?

**Drabble #4:** Wanna Bet?

**By: **Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Congratulations, Megatron! It's a seeker!

**Inspiration:** So I have a guilty pleasure for seekerlet!Starscream, especially where Megatron raises him. And considering it's father's day …well, I just had to add my own spin on it. Lolz.

**Continuity:** IDW- Megatron: Origins and/or pre-All Hail Megatron, or pre-TF:A

**Status:** Finished

* * *

The second Megatron entered his quarters, he knew something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There was a winglet in his room.

A _seeker_ winglet.

He had to reboot his optical programming to ensure he was seeing correctly. After all, thanks to the heavy pollution in the skies, flyers of any type were usually not seen in Kaon. Seekers, in particular, were pretty scarce, especially in the underground quarters of the gladiatorial arenas. The only seeker he could name off the top of his head would be the highly irritating Starscream, but that Unicron pit-spawn didn't count.

But, no, his optics were apparently working just fine. The winglet – an especially _small_ and incredibly _shiny_ seekerlet – was wobbling around his rooms on unsteady legs, chirping quietly to himself. Every now and then, some random object would claim his attention, and he would plop down on his aft and stare at it, clicking in some bastardized version of speech.

Megatron tore his gaze from the winglet and glanced around, wondering A) how it got into his rooms, and B) where it had come from to begin with. As far as _he_ knew, he hadn't ensparked any bots period, let alone a seeker, so it definitely wasn't one of those little "surprises" he knew occasionally sprung up in a few of the other gladiator's lives.

Then again… he _had_ been pretty overcharged a few orns ago. He didn't remember much of that entire cycle, and what he _did_ remember, he wished he _didn't_. It was highly unlikely, but not impossible, that he had found a seeker and ensparked it.

Sighing, he finally closed the door to his rooms and resolved himself to taking care of the winglet until he could find its bearer and give it back.

At the sound of Megatron's sigh, the winglet looked up. Crimson optics studied Megatron intensely for a moment before an incredibly forceful (not to mention cute) look of anger settled firmly on his facial plating. The winglet began to chirp and click furiously, optics narrowed, and budding wing-nubs trembled.

The winglet looked almost like Starscream in a royal snit. Even had his coloring….

…a very ugly idea was being considered by his processor, and he very much wanted it to stop producing those thoughts _Right Now_. There was no way he'd interfaced with Starscream, even overcharged, as the uptight seeker would have ripped out his _own_ spark first.

The seekerlet carefully clambered to his too-tiny peds and began to determinedly make his way over to Megatron, vocalizer growing more and more shrill with each passing second.

Primus, the poor thing even had Starscream's voice. Megatron knelt and carefully extended his servo, allowing the sparkling to latch onto him to steady himself. He opened his mouth, to say what he didn't know, and then abruptly closed it as the seekerlet promptly bit him.

Crimson optics narrowed and stared at him from over his servo, a low growling purr escaping the winglet's vocalizer. The damn thing even had Starscream's irrational temper!

"If I didn't know any better," Megatron muttered as he gently detached the winglet from his servo and held him up before his optics. "I'd say you were Starscream himself."

There was a moment of silence, and then the seekerlet gave him a feral grin, waved, and click once.

Megatron stopped and stared.

Starscream, feral grin stretching further to show off his rather sharp dentals, raised his arms in the 'hold me' sign used by toddlers universally.

"Oh, Primus, _no_," Megatron swore.

Starscream chirred in mocking laughter.

And Megatron knew why – he was _stuck_ with the seeker. His own pride would not allow him to brutally murder the sparkling, regardless of just who the winglet really was. And once the other gladiators found out about the winglet, they would assume that he and Starscream had _finally_ interfaced, and that the haughty seeker had dropped off the ensuing sparkling and fled.

"You sneaky little glitch!" he hissed out. "Just how in the name of the Unmaker did you manage _this?_"

The seeker had the nerve to yawn at him.

"I'm not raising you," he told the seeker.

Starscream smiled a slow, smug little grin that said quite clearly what he was thinking:

'_Wanna bet?_'

* * *

**I can _so_ see Starscream doing something this assinine just to fuck with Megatron. Incidentally, this is also my little contribution to the whole 'Megatron raised Starscream, which is why he doesn't kill him' fannon. **


	5. Negotiations

**Drabble #5:** Negotiations

**By: **Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** In which Optimus Prime gets _exactly_ what he wants. As for Starscream, well, he's certainly not complaining.

**Inspiration:** I had the sudden thought of what would happen if Shattered Glass Optimus met a G1-natured Starscream instead?

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass AU

**Status:** Incomplete

* * *

"Can it be done?"

Starscream studied the plans on his desk critically. It wasn't a question of whether or not it _could_ be done, but rather one of whether or not _he_ would be the one to do it. Starscream was one of the most intelligent mechs within the Institute's walls, and despite his rather low position, he was highly respected. Everyone liked him – you could ask a number of mechs to describe Starscream, and would get a variety of answers: kind, generous, loyal, hardworking, and quiet were just the most frequent.

Starscream was intelligent – it took him only three clicks for him to understand that as difficult as it had been to attend the Crystal City Science Academy, it would be next to impossible to get his pede in the door of the Iacon Institute of the Sciences if he acted the way that came natural to him. So he held in his sharp tongue and stinging wit; disguised his disgust with the idiots he was forced to work with and under; personally modified his frame to appear smaller and less threatening and his optics to a gentle shade of blue.

His gaze left the plans and settled firmly on Optimus. The mech – an archivist that come from old wealth – held his gaze. Starscream studied the mech for several long moments, carefully weighing his options. "It can be done," he finally allowed.

He watched as the other's optics narrowed. "But?" There was a low growl added to the other's usually cold voice, and Starscream barely managed to hold in a smirk. How he had missed playing with others like this – Skyfire in particular used to be very fun to toy with.

He shrugged. "But I have no intentions of ruining my life for this …_toy_." He gestured in breezy dismissal of Optimus' weapon. It was a decent weapon, if all one wanted was a large hole in whatever one was shooting at. There was no finesse, nothing awe- or fear-inspiring about it. Starscream looked again at the plans, already noting where he could add things in, make it bigger, better, _deadlier_. He felt the weight of Optimus Prime's considering stare, and wondered what the other was thinking.

"What life?" Optimus suddenly said, and Starscream tilted his head in query.

Optimus gestured to the walls of his small lab. "You are a single scientist in an institute full of them. You are a seeker, and as such have no chance in gaining a name for yourself."

Starscream acknowledged this with a nod. "True," he murmured, a sly grin ghosting his thin lips. "But I am here regardless. I have a job I love that pays well and keeps my tanks full. Unlike the vast majority of my frame-kin, I'm allowed to fly when and where I will." He leaned back in his chair, and gestured to Optimus' plans. "If I do this, and I get _caught_…" he let his voice trail off suggestively, knowing that Optimus knew very well what the consequences would be.

Optimus said nothing, merely sat still and waited, studying him with those gorgeous crimson optics.

Starscream smiled, a mischievous grin full of trouble and ill intent. "You want this built?" he practically purred.

"I do."

"And you want _me _to build it?"

"I do."

"And what would you be willing to do or offer to get what you want?"

Optimus bared his dental plating in a sharp grin of his own. "What does the genius seeker _want_?"

Starscream allowed his gaze to trail suggestively over Optimus' frame. He was not at all a bad-looking mech, despite the fact that he was a ground-pounder. Optimus Prime was built for power and strength, and the seeker wondered briefly what it would feel like to be pressed against him; wondered how it would feel to have Optimus claim him with all the ferocity Starscream just _knew_ was hidden beneath the mech's cold exterior.

Rather than settle for an interface or two – something he was sure he could finagle out of the mech anyway – he instead named his terms. Keeping his own azure optics locked onto Optimus', he hissed out, "I want _power_." He gestured at the open doorway, where the passing forms of other mechs could occasionally be seen. "I want to be judge and jury to all who defy, or deny, me. If I do this," Starscream leaned forward, gaze intent. "If I do this, if I build you your weapons, I want to know that I will never again have to abandon my pride and dignity and play kiss-aft with those who are inferior."

He stopped, suddenly aware that the blunt-tips of his fingers had retracted and his claws had come out.

There was a pause.

"Power," Optimus purred, a deep rumbling sound that had Starscream trembling and his energy-field flaring tellingly. "I can give you all that and more."

Starscream nearly overloaded right then and there.

Optimus Prime grinned at him, and the grin was full of dark promises. "And how would you seal this bargain, little seeker?"

Starscream again eyed Optimus' frame. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something," he murmured, even as he reached out with one clawed servo.

* * *

**There was supposed to be smut, and lots of it, but I never got around to it. Lolz. I have never read the Shattered Glass AU, so I'm positive that there are plenty of mistakes in both plot and characterizations. **


	6. On Rules and Breaking Them

**Drabble #6:** On Rules and Breaking Them

**By: **Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** There were certain rules you had to follow to live in the Decepticon Army. Starscream took an uncannily mutinous joy in breaking them.

**Inspiration:** Uh…nothing really. Although, I was listening to "Bust Your Windows" by Jazmine Sullivan on repeat the other night. I don't know where I was going with this, but it reads pretty interesting, so have fun!

**Continuity:** G1.

**Status:** ?

* * *

For the vast majority of the Decepticon Army, there were certain rules that they had to follow. And although they were an unruly, mismatched bunch of heathens, thieves, fighters, murderers, prostitutes, and genuinely hard-on-their-luck mechs, every single one of them knew they had to follow these rules, no exceptions or excuses. After all, these were _Megatron's_ rules, and Megatron's Rules were usually only broken as a means of committing suicide.

Starscream, however, seemed to take an uncannily mutinous joy in breaking _all_ the rules, whenever and however he so desired, regardless of who else may be dragged along for the ride. Starscream took a strangely perverse pleasure in questioning their Lord, ripping apart his plans, his ego, and his never-strong-enough patience. The seeker's betrayals, insubordinations, and mutinies were vast and varied, plotted and planned with seemingly no rhyme or reason but nonetheless clever and ruthless.

There was something about Starscream, something about him that drew them all in, that kept them coming back again and again, even though they all _knew_ he was up to no good. It was more than just his physical appearance – he had the finest aft any of them had ever seen, his face was perfection in of itself, and his wings seemed to be _made_ for temptation. There was something about his very demeanor that was absolutely intoxicating. Whatever it was, it repulsed them all, even as they eagerly reached forward to drown themselves in his poison. Starscream used them, broke them, and tossed them away with nary a look of pity or a glimpse of regret.

And they not only allowed it, they _welcomed_ it.

It was for this reason that none of the mechs in the Decepticon Army _really_ protested Starscream's continued survival. As Supreme Commander, it was Megatron's priority to ignore any and all rules as he wished, when he wished. So when Starscream, yet again, attempted to assassinate him and received nothing for his troubles but a good beating and perhaps some time in the brig, nobody really said _anything_ about it. It was Megatron's will, and that was all that they needed to know.

But, it wasn't only Megatron's Rules that Starscream broke. Each commanding officer had their own set of rules and guidelines that helped to supplement Megatron's Rules, leading to a more organized and balanced army.

Shockwave's list, in particular, was long, logical, and so full of technical language that it had taken both Soundwave and Starscream the better part of a full vorn before they were finally able to hand out the translated version for the common, under-educated mech. (Incidentally, there was a reason Shockwave got left on Cybertron, and it wasn't just because Megatron was getting more than a bit creeped-out by Shockwave's obsessive loyalty. Every Decepticon had gleefully abandoned Cybertron to get away from Shockwave, and the only 'cons left were those who were equally logic-obsessive, drones, unfortunate experiments, and those just too stupid to know any better.)

Every mech _knew_ when Starscream was breaking Shockwave's Rules – the seeker took great pains to advertise the fact. It was a matter of entertainment, and no one, not even Megatron, wanted to miss out on the inevitable aftermath of Starscream gleefully and systematically causing processor crash after processor crash. Shockwave was logical beyond any sense of reason, after all, and was unable or unwilling to understand that Starscream, as deranged and possibly-glitched as he was, very much _didn't_ run on logic.

Starscream particularly liked to argue with Shockwave, and when he did it was always a momentous occasion that inevitably had the entire army, including Megatron, crowding around the communications center to witness it. Starscream's intelligence was clearly superior, his processors more devious and capable of running at speeds matched only by his mouth, and he wasn't bound by the pesky thing called logic. Starscream, in a matter of moments, could have Shockwave _convinced_ that Megatron was a turbo-fox in disguise and that Soundwave was his creator. He had once driven Shockwave so completely crazy that his processors didn't stop crashing for three whole vorns. It was for this reason, and the fact that Starscream could entirely too easily get Shockwave to agree to anything just to make the seeker shut up, that Megatron had forbidden Starscream to contact Shockwave.

Not that Starscream listened.

Soundwave's list of rules, conversely, was short and to the point: don't mess with the Cassettes. Starscream took great pride in being the only mech capable of literally beating the cassettes into spare components without ending up in need of the repair-bay himself. (He was, in fact, making quite a profit off of the bribes he was getting to do so, particularly in regards to Rumble and Frenzy.)

As for Starscream's rules…. Well, no one was quite sure if Starscream even _had_ rules. If he did, not only did the seeker never bother to hand them out, but he probably broke them all anyway.

* * *

**Again, I have no clue. I think I wrote all of it just to get to the last line. Lolz.  
**


	7. Homecoming

**Drabble #7: **Homecoming

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **Someone should have warned the Fallen and Vortex that Starscream was off-limits.

**Inspiration:** This is purely a product of my own sick imagination and the rampage of my inner-fangirl. Lolz. Watched TF2: RotF again, and got to the "homecoming" scene, and noticed the fanservice moment between Megatron and Starscream. Well, that and that little comment of Starscream's about "spawning" the new army. Things went from there.

**Continuity: **Bay-verse

**Status:** Why do I bother with this anymore? It's as finished as it's getting on my end.

* * *

The sound of Megatron's arrival was very loud, and very distinct. He didn't know many mechs that could make the entire ship tremble in the wake of their passing. Nor did he know any other mech with that particular reverberating voice.

"Starscream, I'm home," that very familiar voice ground out, and he knew that his time was finally up. After nearly a year of fretting and worrying and temper tantrums, the only thing he had left to do was face the most terrifying thing in his life: an enraged Megatron.

Starscream sighed as he prepared himself for the pain that was sure to come. He carefully made his way out of the tightly-packed hatchery, and bowed low before his Lord. Though he knew this would only end in agony, he was long familiar with Megatron's moods: it would take quite a bit of groveling, but it was possible that he could lessen the coming punishment. Keeping this in mind, he bowed even lower, and made sure to keep his wings folded back in a position of submission.

"Lord Megatron, I was so …_relieved_ to hear of your resurrection." Unfortunately, he wasn't as good at submission as some would believe he was – the sarcastic tone of his words was instinctive, and completely unwanted. A low growl sounded, telling him that if he wanted to escape the medbay he was going to have to do a lot better.

"You left me to _die_ on that pathetic planet!" Megatron emphasized his words by slaming his servo into the wall next to him – denting it harshly. The growling grew louder.

Starscream winced. Daring to raise his optics to meet his Lord's, he tried a slightly different approach: shifting blame. "Only to help spawn the new army! The Fallen decreed it! After all – "

He never got to finish. One moment he was speaking and the next thing he knew, Megatron was gripping his throat, and his back was pressed against the delicate pods of the hatchlings. For a moment he thought of asking his Lord to beat him elsewhere – though these particular hatchlings weren't his, he nevertheless felt protective of them – but quickly abandoned that train of thought when he caught sight of Megatron. His Lord was completely silent, too silent, and his optics were burning; rage and something else, something strange flaring strong and deadly. Long moments passed, and with each passing second, Starscream knew Megatron's fury was escalating.

Primus, but this was going to hurt.

"And just who have you been '_spawning'_ with?" Megatron finally asked, voice low and terrifying, tightening his grip on the seeker's neck.

Starscream's jaw dropped. Did his Lord just ask him about …? Uncertain, and more than a little bit afraid, he quietly gave out the names of the two mechs he had bred with. Megatron growled low and deep, before abruptly releasing him and stalking down the corner.

Starscream stayed against the pods for several long moments before finally scurrying down towards his quarters as fast as he could. Not for the first time, he silently cursed the Fallen and everything to do with him – here he was, the Second in Command of a vast and mighty army, a destroyer of worlds, and he had been reduced to a breed-able pet! And now he had the feeling that someone was going to die, painfully, and he was desperate to make sure it wasn't him.

* * *

Vortex was actually doing his best to _find_ Starscream. He had long had more than a crush for the irritable seeker, and the orders the Fallen had issued that all the seekers were expected to breed with a variety of mechs had given him ample opportunity to win the SiC's spark for his own. And, if he did say so himself, he was doing relatively well, all things considered.

Or, rather, it _had_ been going rather well, until he quite abruptly found himself missing both legs and the lower-left portion of his body. The pain never even had a chance to hit his processor – one minute he was staring at the ceiling, wondering what in the name of the Unmaker had just happened, and the next he was staring at the enraged visage of his Supreme Commander.

His last thought before Megatron violently offlined him was, 'I thought he was dead?'

* * *

The Fallen never saw it coming. One moment he was contemplating on just how he was going to obtain _his_ matrix, and the next thing he knew, the door to his quarters was being torn off by an enraged, energon-covered Megatron. The Fallen had barely turned his head before his apprentice was on him, viciously-clawed servos digging at armor that was too flimsy and light to stand up to such an assault.

Over his own agonized screams, he could just barely hear Megatron's low, rumbling voice grinding out, "_Mine_."

* * *

To say that Megatron was less than pleased to find out that his Master had practically whored out his second was to vastly understate his current state of being.

He. Was. Fragging. _Torqued_.

The sheer fury that rocked his re-kindled spark at the mere thought of another so much as _looking_ at Starscream in that manner did not surprise his so much as the jealousy did. But he supposed that was only natural: Starscream was _his_, had _always_ been his, would always _continue_ to be his. It did not matter how many sparklings were forced upon the seeker, or how many mechs got their grubby, undeserving servos on the seeker's frame.

After all, all that did so would die, _were_ dead, and all with the knowledge that they had bred with the _wrong_ seeker.

Anger, jealousy, and a desperate need for violence calming somewhat, he stared down at the cooling corpse of his Master. For a brief moment, grief threatened to engulf him – the Fallen had been his Master for most of his life – before common sense over-rode it. Looking at the mangled corpse, he could not see _why_ he had been beholden to the ancient mech for so long. Armor too light, unable to transform, too weak to fight, too weak to do much else but sit on his throne and reminisce about the better days… his only use had been his vast knowledge of things long forgotten by the rest of their race.

Though, he supposed that even that knowledge wasn't completely lost. There was no way Starscream had been near, let alone _interfaced_ with, the Fallen without getting _something_ in return. Knowing his seeker the way he did, he greatly suspected (and rightly so) that that price had been knowledge – how much and about what remained to be seen.

Now that he had calmed, he was not surprised to hear that in the wake of the All-Spark's destruction the Fallen had resorted to a lesser-known means of reproduction. What he was surprised (and rather torqued) about was that the ancient mech had the bearings to demand it of Starscream as well – even before the war, Starscream had been too high in rank, and far too quick with his claws, for most mechs to even _think_ of forcing the seeker to do anything.

Himself included.

Still, Starscream was his, and if the seeker was going to be bred at all, it was going to be by _him_.

With that thought in mind, he casually stepped over the Fallen's corpse and began to hunt down his seeker.

He needed to make a few things clear.

**

* * *

**

I'm cackling right now, just in case you'd like to know. TF2: RotF is nothing but fanservice, I'm telling you. Soundwave and those tentacles, Megatron greeting Starscream with a "Starscream, I'm home!" and a caress of the chin (you guys did see that, right?), Megatron holding down Sam and _**purring**_** out "It feels good to grasp you flesh" (or something along those lines)…..do I have to continue? Fanservice, peeps, pure fanservice. **

**That being said, I **_**loathe**_** the Fallen. I really can't see Megatron bowing to anyone. Well, except Unicron, but come on, Unicron's a **_**God**_**. The Fallen was an ancient has-been on life-support. (Which I really find confusing – one moment he's on life support, and the next thing you know he's teleporting around and generally being a schizoid telekinetic. What's the deal?)**

**I'm actually really curious about seeing this either continued or fleshed out or **_**something**_**. Please?**


	8. Burn

**Drabble #8: **Burn

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **Since he had been a sparkling, he had longed to see the world explode in a chaotic dissonance to match the cacophony in his processors.

**Inspiration:** It's a matter of personal preference for me that Starscream is a bit mad – I have so much more fun playing with him that way. Insanity and genius is, after all, a very thin line. Incidentally, Crazy!Screamer to me equals Deadly!Screamer, as Logical!Screamer is too predictable, and thus easily taken out of commission.

**Continuity: **G1, baby. Could be IDW as well, but I prefer G1.

* * *

Ever since Starscream had been a seekerlet, he had known that he wasn't the same as the others. Some might argue differently – after all, Seekers were hardly known for their emotional stability and were renowned far and wide for their moral flexibility. He was hardly any different from the others of his frame-kin in that respect.

Except for the fact that he was, and he knew it, and _they_ knew it, too.

Ever since he had been sparked, he had been kept separate from the other winglets, and he would often catch the caretakers watching him warily, as if afraid of something they couldn't name.

Starscream was too smart, for one thing. By the time the other winglets were learning to click and whirr in seeker-speech, he was already learning how to speak in his third language. By the time the other winglets were learning to read basic Vosnian characters, he was already writing in the long-dead Voxinian, the language of seekers before the Great Unification. By the time he was a two vorns old, he was already moving onto complex sciences and mathematics, and was fluent in all 27 Cybertronian languages, and was now working on various dialects, slangs, and model-specific body-speech.

He was too volatile, for another. Mercurial moods were to be expected in Seekers, but there was something wrong with him. There was something _dangerous_ about how swiftly his moods could change, and just how often those moods led to violence of some sort.

Which led to one of the other reasons they feared him: Starscream was built for war. Unlike most of his fellow seekerlets, who were mass-produced, Starscream's frame had been assembled with exacting care by his creator. He resembled his frame-kin so closely that only exceptionally close study truly revealed the differences. His creator, slightly glitched in the processors, had fiddled for countless vorns on the idea of a Seeker capable of fighting on the ground as well as in the air, and Starscream was the ultimate realization of that thought. From his claws, to his denser armor-alloy, to the sheer strength behind his legs, to the sharply tapered, nimble pedes, he was well-equipped for defending himself against a groundling.

This did not end well for many a fellow winglet, as they were created without such defenses. Only the most stubborn (or stupid) of younglings tended to approach him after he had permanently grounded a fellow seekerlet.

But those reasons weren't why Starscream knew he was different. He had known because ever since he had been sparked, he had longed to see the world around him shift and shake and explode in glorious chaos. He had dreamed of power, anarchy, and death. He had known he was different because he was so young, too young, and he had been able to name no less the fifteen ways to permanently off-line a mech. His thoughts whirled too fast for him to make sense of, his mind in a constant state of fluctuation and movement.

As he grew and learned, his thoughts only grew more jumbled. The only difference was that now he was learning how to make a kind-of sense of it all – he doubted very much that any other would understand his thought process, but it was beginning to work for him, so what did it matter?

Starscream had become a Decepticon for only one reason – Megatron, gifted orator that he was, could not hide the madness in his optics; the burning rage that demanded the lives of all who opposed him. He had joined because only as a Decepticon could he truly embrace what he had been built for.

War. Death. Insanity.

Only as a Decepticon could he twist and 'twine the world until it could take no more and _break_ into tiny little pieces for him to further squish and tear and _burn_. Only as a Decepticon could he take his "fellows" and use them relentlessly, over and over and over and over again; seduce them and _break_ them and watch them shrivel and yet come crawling back for _more_. Only as a Decepticon could he build machines and weapons and viruses that made the very planet they lived on _writhe_ in agony and fear.

Oh yes, he knew he was different.

And they knew it, too.

He could tell by their horrified optics when they see him – that same horrified stare that has followed him since the day he was sparked.

**

* * *

**

Hmm…. Someday I will purchase a tape-recorder or something. I sit there for _**hours**_** at work just playing out little scenarios in my head, and by the time a break roles around, I've done lost all the good bits. XD It kinda sucks. **

**Other than that, I totally love all of you. 3 You guy's totally made my day with all those reviews. So I updated a little sooner than I had planned. ^^ I hope you guys all enjoy this one!**

**Notes:**

**1. I feel I should add a small bit about this: in my Beginnings 'verse (the one where Starscream's older than dirt and Megatron's mentor), flyers and groundlings were two completely different races in the very beginning. It was only after several eons of war that the "Great Unification" happened. I liked the idea so much that I've kept it as my fanon fact. XD**


	9. PedeInMouth Syndrome

**Drabble #9: **Pede-in-Mouth Syndrome

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **In which Thundercracker and Skywarp learn that not all tension is sexual in nature.

**Inspiration:** Was reading an article in Glamour about different signals we give off using our eyes, one of which was the "I'm interested, now be interested in me" look. That isn't used in here, but it was supposed to be. XD The pairing itself is a mystery – I was going for Shockwave, but I left it open for interpretation.

**Continuity: **Any except TF:A, though I suppose with a change in supporting cast it _could_ be TF:A.

* * *

"So what's this all about, Screamer?"

Starscream shot a look of pure venom at his purple wing-mate. "Don't call me that," he hissed.

Both Thundercracker and Skywarp were perched on the Air Commander's berth, watching as the tri-colored seeker paced back and forth. They both had been there for a very long time, ever since they had to drag their homicidal-looking trine leader kicking and screaming away from an equally homicidal-looking Megatron.

Thundercracker sighed. "Starscream, _please_. What is going on?"

Starscream made an agitated gesture and didn't answer for several moments. "I want him," he eventually admitted.

Both of them shared a look.

Thundercracker sighed, again. "Starscream," he began delicately, "the whole _base_ knows you want him."

Starscream froze.

Skywarp continued cheerfully, "Even the _Autobots_ know you want him!" Ignoring the swiftly placed elbow into his side, he continued, "They even have bets going on how long it'll take the two of you to bond, and various scenarios on how you two'll do it." He frowned. "They have scary imaginations, Screamer. Some of those scenarios were kinda disturbing."

Thundercracker, meanwhile, was staring at the ceiling, wondering why Primus had seen fit to punish him with Skywarp.

Starscream slowly turned around, and if they had thought he had looked furious before…. Every inch of him promised murder. "You mean to tell me, that for the past Primus-knows-how-long, I've been trying to catch his attention, and _he already knows?_"

Thundercracker and Skywarp shared another long look.

"You give off some seriously crossed signals," Thundercracker said bluntly. "Given who he is, I highly doubt he'd take a chance on anything less than a sure thing, _especially_ given your track record."

Skywarp nodded enthusiastically. "Seriously, Screamer, if I was Megatron, I wouldn't want you either with how often you commit treason."

There was a very long moment of silence as their trine leader processed this. Horror and disgust suddenly crossed his face. "_MEGATRON?_" he howled. "You think I want _Megatron?_" With an infuriated snarl, Starscream resumed his pacing, this time muttering furiously under his breath.

"It's not Megatron?" Skywarp asked in some alarm.

"Of course it's not Megatron, you half-cocked glitch of a turborat!" Starscream roared. "I _loathe_ that slagger. If he dropped dead right now, I'd _dance_ on his graying corpse cackling merrily!"

There was a longer moment of silence as Starscream paced. Unexpectedly, he stopped, placed his servos over his face, and groaned. "Just great," he muttered. "If what you say is true, then he probably thinks I want Megatron as a bond-mate."

Several more moments passed, and then Starscream looked up, optics still promising murder. "This is all _his_ fault – he probably spread rumors like this just to spite me." Nodding decisively, he reattached his null-rays and set them on the highest setting. "I'm going to _kill_ him."

Alarmed, both Skywarp and Thundercracker jumped off the berth. "Kill who?"

A strange, not-quite-there grin crossed his facial plating. "Megatron, of course."

And then he was gone.

Skywarp and Thundercracker looked at each other. That had gone well.

* * *

**There is, of course, supposed to be more. Just can't decide where I want to take it. Lolz. In the version I originally wrote, Megatron walked into Starscream's quarters just in time to hear the "I want Megatron as a bond-mate" part, which started a very interesting conversation that never quite panned out the way I wanted it to. **

**I need a tape-recorder and someone to RP an evil tyrant. I've got Screamer down pretty good. XD**

**Anyhow, I hope you've all enjoyed the crazy. **


	10. Fool

**Drabble #10:** Fool

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** It was a sick cycle of love and hate, one they both wanted to be free of, but one they refused to give up.

**Inspiration:** Eminem's "Love the Way You Lie". This song practically screamer Megatron/Starscream to me, and I had to write it. Beware, this is not a happy story.

**Continuity:** Any except Bayverse.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Starscream froze. He said nothing, merely remained standing in front of the entrance to their quarters. The quarters that, for the first time in a vorn, contained no sign that Starscream had ever lived there. Thundercracker and Skywarp had spent the entirety of the last cycle moving his things into their quarters. He would have helped, if only to avoid this confrontation, but the severity of the damage to his spinal strut had left him unable to lift anything heavier than an energon cube.

He clenched his servos. He still didn't know what he had done – one moment things had been fine, better than fine, and the next thing he knew, Megatron was beating him.

He knew Megatron loved him. Megatron loved him with an intensity that made his spark temporarily stop pulsing. And he knew that love wasn't fake; one couldn't fake anything over a bond such as theirs. And he loved Megatron just as deeply; _needed_ him even more. Megaton was the only thing he had left; not even his brothers really cared anymore. They had made absolutely clear to him that they were only housing him until he had recovered, and then he would have to find his own way.

"Please," came the soft, hesitant entreaty, and he couldn't help glancing over at his lord and lover. Megatron was sitting on their birth, black servos clenching the edges hard enough to dent, tension causing his frame to tremble. Starscream could see just how hard Megatron was restraining himself from _forcing_ Starscream to stay – in his current condition, there was no way he would have been able to fend off Megatron. "Please, don't leave me."

Starscream turned fully, careful in his movements. He still said nothing, merely stared at Megatron.

It had taken centuries before the two of them had managed to admit to each other that they both wanted _more_ than just random interfacing; it had taken only two vorns for them to make the decision to bond. It had been one of the best decisions either of them had ever made – they were both more efficient and more vicious in battle, their processors were finally capable of coordinating, and what few arguments they had could be settled quickly and quietly without any other mech knowing – which did wonders for moral.

But while Megatron's fierce love for him even now sunk into his very being, he also knew that Megatron was coming to hate him as well. Megatron probably hadn't even been aware of the growing hatred until the mech had finally snapped and beat him within an inch of his life. He needed to leave before that hatred had a chance to grow any stronger; he needed to leave before that hate infected his own spark and was returned ten-fold. But….

He watched Megatron, noting the sorrowful optics, the slumped shoulders, and the tense frame. No one had ever loved him as deeply as Megatron did and no one ever would. How could he just walk away from this? One bad incident, one colossal mistake… surely they could work around this?

Starscream finally spoke. "Never again," he said quietly, knowing his lover would understand.

Megatron nodded. "Never again," he swore.

Starscream finally gave into the need pounding through his very being, and settled himself gently on his lord's lap. He sighed as Megatron's arms ever-so-carefully settled around him, mindful of the seriousness of his injuries. His lord's voice whispered quiet words in his audios; words of how he was sorry, how he would never do it again, how things between them would only get better.

Through their bond, he could feel that Megatron hated what he had done; hated that he had been the cause of Starscream's injuries. He could feel that his lover feared that Starscream would never trust him again; feared that he would leave and never look back. And he knew that his lord grieved, because they both knew that even as Megatron whispered those words, those promises, that they were nothing but lies.

Perhaps, if the damage and hateful, seething words that had been spoken as he had lain on the floor, broken and bleeding copious amounts of energon had truly been done in the heat of the moment, they might have been able to put it behind them. Perhaps if that absolute loathing wasn't growing in Megatron's spark…. But there was no going back from this. Not now, not ever.

And maybe he was a fool for not leaving now while there was still a chance for him to do so, but he loved Megatron, needed him, even when the mech was lying to him.

* * *

**Like I said, this will not be a happy story. I may turn this into a 3-shot. Let me know what you think, please?**


	11. Dear Starscream

**Drabble #11: **Dear Starscream

**By: **Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** In which the author writes to her favorite Transformer.

**Inspiration:** This was actually done for a contest over on TheMuseBunny (link in my profile), in which we were told to write a letter to one character from any fandom. I, of course, chose Starscream. This letter was _supposed _to be me playing suck-up, but, well... you'll just have to read it to understand. I'm thinking about doing a whole series of these letters, 'cause they're really fun to do. Might call the collection of these letters **From Squishy, With Love**, but we'll see. 3 Of course, I'd love it if someone else started to do these letters too. (HintHint)

**Continuity: **Erm...I wrote it for IDW Screamer, but it could totally fit in all of them.

* * *

Dear Starscream,

First, I'd like to mention what an honor it is to write this to you, the rightful leader of the Decepticon Armada, even if I know you won't ever read it - I'm well aware of your view on us horrible "squishies". Not to come off stalker-ish, but I've been watching you for quite some time now, and I have to admit, there's no one quite like you. The way you fly, the way you move, the way you fail spectacularly... I could watch you for forever and a day.

...that did come off stalker-ish, didn't it? I do apologize. Thankfully, you won't read this - can you even read human languages? - so I won't have to worry about any painful tortures or agonizing deaths to my personage. At least, not from _you_.

The other members of your vast and varied fan-club, however... Some of those girls disturb even me, and don't even get me started on the Cybertronians that "secretly" desire your attentions. It's not quite fair that I or any other human will have to fight against a 8-foot-plus walking steel behemoth with built-in _cannons_. _I _don't have built in cannons.

I'd like to, though. 3

But, yeah. Total suckage that. Were that I was of your race... you'd totally still ignore me completely, but at least I'd have a slim chance if those interesting rumors about seekers are true. Not that I'm saying you're promiscuous or anything. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're totally not, as there are quite a few people/mechs/femmes out there that are currently pining for your attention and aren't getting it. (_Hint: I'm one of them!_)

Oh! Hey, just in case you _are _reading this - which I'm not sure how you could, given that this piece of paper is rather tiny - you want to know an interesting secret?

I told you already I've been watching you for quite awhile. I forgot to mention that I've also occasionally sorta-kinda been taking photos of you as well and selling them. It allows me to keep an eye on the competition, don't'cha know, not to mention that I'm making quite a fortune off of your pretty chassis. And it totally blew my mind when I noticed who bought one the other day - _Megatron_. He was all Mr. Grumpy about it, mind you, but I think that was probably more due to the fact that he had to come to an organic to get some decent shots of you - I've been told I have a ..._gift _for lighting.

I personally think you should stop trying to kill him. Although you are clearly more intelligent, more beautiful, and more creative than he ever will be, he does have a rather large canon attached to his arm capable of making very large and impressive holes, not to mention that totally-loyal, massive army backing him up. Plus, he totally wants you, and if you play your cards right, I'm positive you can have the All-Mighty Slag-Maker at your beck and call, which should be more interesting than playing cowardly Second in Command, at any rate.

At the very least, it might be an amusing sight, yes?

So, yeah. It was just a thought I had.

Oh, and I was also wondering if you'd want to go into business with me. You know - be my _willing _model for some truly ..._interesting _shots, and I'd be your slave for all eternity, and I'd totally share the profits. Some of the profits, at any rate. Maybe. Do giant alien robots even _need _money?

But, hey, this letter is getting rather long, and I really need to get started on developing this next batch of photos. I'm not sure whether I want you to have read this letter or not - which one is going to end up with me still living? 'Cause I'd really rather not end up dead. I think you can sympathize with me on that note, yes? Anyway, goodbye, and thanks for all those pretty poses you seem to be constantly making. They keep me fed and in college. 3

Your ever-loyal slave/admirer/extortionist,

~Ceris Malfoy 3

XOXOXOXOXO

* * *

**Lols. I had entirely too much fun with this, as you can probably tell. I really want to do a full series of these, but I figured I get public opinion on the idea first. I'm not sure if this sorta thing would qualify as a self-insert or not. **


	12. This Isn't Over

**Drabble #12:** This Isn't Over

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** He glanced over his shoulder-vents, looking back to see if they were being noticed, and met Prime's steady blue optics. In that instant he hated Prime, more than he had ever hated any other mech – he wanted to rip out Prime's still-pulsing spark and crush it beneath his talons.

**Inspiration:** Okay, so my friend Ryan was trying to sell me on what he believes TF3: Dark of the Moon was going to be about, and part of it was Megatron apparently going absolutely bug-nuts and turning into the equivalent of SG!Optimus Prime/Nemisis Prime (which I don't buy) with Starscream, of all mechs, trying to keep Megatron from doing anything stupid. Perhaps it was just me, but when you're reduced to _Starscream_ being the voice of reason, you know you have a problem. This fic has nothing to do with that, of course, but nonetheless, that's what spawned it. XD

**Continuity:** Bayverse, TF2: RotF, slight divergence at the ending of the film

* * *

"Starscream!"

The distinctive roar of the only mech he would ever call Lord and Master, agonized and slightly pleading, echoed piercingly despite the chaotic cacophony of the battlefield below. For a long moment, Starscream considered leaving Megatron there; considered allowing Prime to finish what he had started; considered turning tail and fleeing back to the Nemisis with his own spark intact.

But, no. Aside from the fact that allowing Prime to win went against every pulse of his spark, and the fact that not all of the Decepticons were on Earth, and eventually they would find out that he'd abandoned Megatron to die again, there was the simple fact that if he fled now, all he'd have to return to was dead-and-dying hatchlings and an incomplete trine.

Let Megatron think what he will about it. Starscream returned to his Lord, helped stabilize him enough that he could move on his own, and watched as the dumb-aft promptly went to go help the Fallen. Sighing, and internally cursing Megatron to the Pits for sheer stupidity, Starscream followed. Thankfully, they arrived just in time to see the Fallen killed, ripped open by Prime's bare survos.

"No," Megatron whispered, and the sheer disbelief and beginnings of grief that muted the normally powerful voice kept Starscream from saying anything for a long moment as they watched the Fallen's corpse settle on the desert sands at Prime's pedes.

"My Lord," Starscream said, placing a taloned-servo delicately on Megatron's un-damaged arm. It was telling when Megatron didn't so much as twitch his plating at the touch – after nearly several million years, Megatron was usually particularly paranoid around him. If he was going to kill Megatron, now would be an ideal time to do it.

But… there would be no victory like this. Megatron was weak and compromised right now, and Starscream was a warrior with a warrior's pride, not some petty coward waiting in the shadows. When he took over as the Decepticon Overlord, permanently, he wanted to stand over Megatron's corpse knowing that it was because he was that much stronger, that much faster.

"My Lord," he said again, this time a little more urgently now that Prime was beginning to pay attention to his surroundings. They were close enough that Prime would easily be able to sense them if they lingered much longer, and Starscream had no illusions on who would come out on top if they were forced to fight. "We must leave."

He briefly considered drawing attention to what Megatron always loved to call him – coward – but decided against it. Now was not the time for pettiness. He tugged gently, and Megatron came easily, turning his back on his brother and the corpse of the Fallen, already starting to shut down both physically and mentally. Starscream had seen this type of grief too often before, and knew that the only way he could help was to get his Lord to a safe place before he went totally catatonic.

He glanced over his shoulder-vents, looking back to see if their retreat was being noticed, and met Prime's blue optics, watching them steadily with both pity and caution. In that instant he hated Prime, more than he had ever hated any other mech, living or dead. He wanted to reach across the space that separated them and claw out those damned blue optics that _dared_ looked with such pity at Megatron; wanted to rip out Prime's still-pulsing spark and crush it beneath his talons; he wanted to make Prime suffer untold agonies for their defeat.

The only thing that stopped him, the only thing that made him swallow his rage and continue on, was the blindly-moving Megatron. Snarling at Prime, he sent out two mass-communications, easily hacking into the organics' technology to do so. The first, spoken in the bastardized Cybertronian the Decepticons had adopted as their native tongue, ordering a mass-retreat. The second, spit out in the human's English, tone conveying a deep hatred and deeper rage, was a warning to all of them, but Prime in particular.

"This isn't over."

* * *

**So, what can I say about this?**

**Okay, so Bayverse!Screamer is a little more complicated than G1!Screamer, obviously. In his summary-thingy on his toy, it mentions that Bayverse!Screamer is actually loyal to Megatron, just constantly disagrees with him. To me, this is further proof of the awesome Love/Hate relationship between them, besides, of course, the "Starscream, I'm home!" bit. XD **

**So, accordingly, Bayverse!Starscream wouldn't just leave Megatron to die at Prime's hands – and he doesn't. Canon Bayverse says he goes back. But it never made sense for me as to what happened afterwards – at the very mention of the word "coward" Megatron should have been bitch-slapping Starscream and jumping right back into battle. It makes much more sense to me if the level of grief from the Fallen's death combined with the disappointment from their failure would make Megatron just start to shut down – go into a sort of catatonic state – for however long it took to recover. Starscream, a veteran of this war, would have seen such states of grief before, and know how to deal with it. **

**I may continue this one in its own story, but as of now, it's free for you to play around with.**


	13. Gifts: Negotiations, pt2

**Drabble #13:** Gifts (a.k.a. Negotiations, pt.2)

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Optimus Prime smiled, a warm and gentle smile reserved for Starscream alone. "I have some new toys for you," was all he said.

**Inspiration:** Wanted to do a semi-sequel to "Negotiations" (Chapter 5, if you want to re-read). It started out as just a theory on how the whole "power" structure would work if Starscream had joined the Autobots in SG, but turned into so much more. XD

**Continuity:** TF Crossover between Shattered Glass AU involving G1!Natured Starscream, and G1 (which is going to be interesting, believe me.)

* * *

Optimus Prime stood tall and proud, crimson optics staring holes into the captured Decepticons that had dared to offline his Second in Command. The vast majority of his army was screaming for the Decepticons' death, but Optimus felt that death was too good for scum like those standing before him ever-so-casually. He would much rather a slow, prolonged death, but that would not satisfy his army. He studied these strange Decepticons with their purple insignias and crimson optics and willingness to deal death, allowing the silence to stretch as he thought.

And then, as his optics traced the sharp angle of the oddly-built captured seeker's wings, he knew what he wanted to do with them. "Of course," he rumbled, inadvertently pleased with his thought process. He smiled as he noticed that his pleasure was causing even those in his army to shift in fear. "Starscream!" he called, and had the further pleasure of watching his army blanch, even as the strange Decepticons traded even stranger looks.

Officially, Starscream was the Air Commander of the army, who moonlighted as an Engineer and Inventor, and occasionally a field-medic. Officially, Starscream answered to Prowl and Jazz, in addition to the Prime. Officially, Starscream was just another soldier.

Every mech with a processor, however, knew that to classify or try and treat Starscream as "just another soldier" would be the last thing they ever did. The seeker was Optimus Prime's favored – some even dared to whisper that Starscream was the Prime's chosen consort, if not bonded-mate. The seeker personally saw to the Prime's upgrades and medical needs, and personally designed and installed his weaponry and firewalls. No one else was allowed the privilege – the last medic to try ended up in more pieces than anyone cared to remember.

Consequently, Starscream never got so much as a disapproving look. Moreover, the seeker seemed to exist outside the chain of command, answering only to Optimus Prime, and even then, only if the seeker's offenses were a little too far out of line. Starscream was never far from the Prime, and over the course of the war, had become the Prime's favored method of "cleaning house".

Starscream was a certified genius with a sadistic streak that made Ratchet's look tame by comparison. He was also most definitely glitched beyond any repair and insatiably curious. This was a combination which did not promise a good outcome for those forced to submit to his "tender mercies". It had become a colloquialism amongst the Autobots and no few Decepticons: all of them would rather be eaten alive by Sharkticons, or submit to Ratchet's so-called "improvements" then become another of Starscream's "playmates".

Despite this, there was no few amount of mechs on both sides of the war who failed to pass their optics longingly over the seeker whenever he was seen. Modified at the start of the war on Optimus Prime's orders, the bulky, lumbering scientist was a thing of the very distant past. Slim and petite, designed with rolling curves and the smoothest seams any mech had ever seen, the seeker was an aerodynamic beauty of unmatched proportions. He was smaller than most other mechs, (including those of his model-type who had followed him and had been similarly modified), his helm barely reaching the Prime's chest-plates. (This had led to some rather lewd remarks about Starscream being a "size-queen". To this day, no one knows what exactly Starscream did to those mechs he overheard saying such. They just know those mechs screamed for a very long time, and are now gone. The remarks have never been repeated.)

Despite his beauty, however, there was something just innately creepy about how the seeker seemed to walk out of Optimus Prime's shadow when called as if he was some sort of demonic conjuration of the Prime's inner-self. It was even creepier to watch that artic gaze sweep over them all and know that inside that mind was plots upon designs upon plans of what he could, and eventually _would_, do to them all.

"You called, my Lord?" Starscream purred, his previously-scratchy voice long since modified to be just as smooth and delicate as the rest of him.

Optimus Prime smiled, a kind and gentle smile that was reserved for Starscream alone. "I have some new toys for you," was all he said as he gestured to the prisoners.

Starscream's artic-blue optics swept over the two Decepticons – a slim, but boxy seeker in a bright triage of colors and a silver-and-black behemoth of a mech, both with bright crimson optics and death written plainly over their very being. Starscream took note of the two's energy signatures, and smiled, revealing razor-sharp dental-plating a Sharkticon would be proud to own. Few were as gifted at the act of reading and identifying another mech by their energy signature as he was, and so it did not surprise him that his Lord had missed the similarities between the strange seeker's energy signature and his own.

He was gratified to see an echoing grin stretch over the other seeker's face as they contemplated each other. Clearly his other-self was just as talented. The other seeker's grin grew wider, the delight and mischief of his grin echoing the glint of madness in those crimson optics.

Never taking his optics off his other-self, his own smile perfectly reflecting the other's, Starscream murmured a delighted, "Many thanks for these _wondrous_ gifts, my Lord."

* * *

**Oh Lord. Two Starscreams in one universe? This is gonna end up either the most epic thing that ever crossed my mind, or a disaster of such proportions that I might as well term it as epic anyway. XD And poor Megatron. He doesn't get much screen-time; in fact he gets mentioned and then promptly dismissed. XD I don't quite know where this might go, but I do know that both Starscreams want to "play". . **


	14. Incandescent, pt1

**Drabble #14:** Incandescent, pt.1

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** And though she did not love him, nor did she offer her love to him, he was content with what she could give, for in a bond such as what they were forming, love was as inevitable as the next collapse of the universe.

**Inspiration:** Umm… this is what happens when I'm forced to listen to a crusty old man read the Thomas Covenant books for three weeks on end. No dialogue; this is meant to be a semi-prose fairytale of sorts. When someone first mentioned the idea of me doing a BSSM/G1!TF crossover, I originally balked. Though I dearly love both series, I haven't written BSSM fanfiction in ages, nor have I read the manga or watched the anime. Though I still draw fanart for the series, I haven't been involved with it enough to remember the specific kinds of details one would need to reliably mash two such different worlds together. And then I started to actually think about it. And I thought, and I thought, and eventually I decided it could be done, it would be done, and it would be the most awesome CRACK-fic I've ever written. Unfortunately, thanks to the three weeks of torture, I found myself taking the challenge a little too seriously. This is the result.

**Continuity:** G1/1986 animated movie crossed with Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon

* * *

He had drifted for untold eons, unable to die, unable to rest. The universe around him contracted and expanded, over and over again; dying and giving rebirth to itself, each time coming back fundamentally the same, but just a little different then it had been previously.

He existed beyond the universe's touch, unable to be die with it and just as unable to be reborn. Do to this, he often found himself drifting to the center point of the universe – the one point that never changed. In this one place, all life was collected and sent out to respawn as it would. It was a place of warmth and light; it was a place where no matter what he did, he was welcomed back. There was a Presence there, curiously feminine in feel, though he never heard nor saw Her. She welcomed him back to Her side with a detached, gentle sadness, as if grieved that he was outside Her realm of influence, unable to be sent out to be reborn like the rest of Her charges.

He was not alone in this place. There were other sparks there, just as disembodied as he was, though they were not of the same make as he – how could they be, when his own race was dead and gone, erased from the universe as if they had never even existed? All of them were weak and unaware, dim and small. The few that were aware avoided him; his own turbulent brilliance driving them away.

Had he been any other being, he might have stayed in that place of warmth and light and welcome. But he was by nature a curious and mischievous being, and often left to discover what new changes the universe's rebirth had spawned. Curiously, though his own race had been seemingly erased from the universe's blueprints, the human race was one that continuously respawned, though their genetics and history changed with each rebirth. He enjoyed entertaining himself by possessing the humans and causing as much mayhem, mischief, and glorious chaos as he could before his strength would leave him and he'd have to evacuate his host. Sometimes he would stay and watch the aftermath of his possessions, however he usually chose to retreat back to the place of light and warmth where he'd be welcomed back by the Presence with the same detached, gentle sadness alongside exasperated fondness.

There was no sense of time in his bodiless state. During what could have been the 60th rotation of the universe's existence, but could have just as easily been the 6,000th, something happened. Something broke the endless routine he had made for himself.

It was a light, a spark. It was gentler than his own, but no less strong, no less bright. He was aware of that spark on a fundamentally primal level – it was beyond his awareness of the others. It was soft and silver and beautiful. It fascinated him, though he was hesitant to approach it. He could not bear the thought that the other spark was like the others in that it was unaware, and so deemed it safer to not find out. By staying apart from that spark, he could pretend that it was just as aware, just as uncertain of him as he was of it.

And just as suddenly as it had appeared, it disappeared. His existence as a bodiless spark had not tempered his emotions at all, and so he raged silently, his fury obvious in the incandescent spikes of flaring power that radiated off his spark. The Presence did all She could to soothe him, but he was beyond Her power, just as he had always been, and always would be. The other weak lights around him fled in droves.

His fury only abated when the soft-strong spark returned, slightly more intense in its level of brightness, but still gentle and soothing. Again, he lost himself in his awareness of that spark, entranced by its simplistic beauty and quiet strength. And again, it disappeared, and again he was enraged beyond his own comprehension.

His existence formed a new pattern.

The spark would appear, each time stronger, brighter, and more intense; tightly compacted and powerful beyond what even his own bodiless senses could comprehend, but never loosing that wondrously soothing gentleness and warmth. And each time, he would 'watch' that spark like a besotted sparkling, basking distantly in its warmth and serenity. And then the spark would leave, and his existence would seem cold and his fury would awaken to fill the sudden emptiness that claimed him. He would have been content to continue this pattern for eons beyond measure, had it not been for the final time that spark appeared in the place of warmth and light.

When it appeared, it was flickering as if flinching, whirling in combined pain and horror and fear and panic. It flittered to and fro, uncertain and unsure, as if its arrival here had been unintended and unwanted. He had been unable to stay away; he felt compelled to bring it comfort and soothe it the way it had once soothed him. With determined pulses he traversed the distance between them faster than he had been able to fly when he had been whole and alive.

He was not the only one striving to reach the spark though – another light, brilliant in its intense power but strangely weak and ineffective, as if it had long ago forgotten how to use that power, was determinedly trying to reach the silver spark first. For the first time in his long existence, he truly felt the power of the Presence; She nudged him forcefully, pushing him right into the silver spark.

For a brief moment, he felt horrified – he'd never meant to touch the spark, as touching the spark of another without consent was the one taboo even the vilest of his race had never broken; he had only meant to soothe its fear and panic – but then he was lost in the meld of two beings, an act which between two who consented was deemed sacred and beautiful amongst his own. Distantly he was aware of a female voice screaming out in disbelief and anger, and the white spark attempting to knock him away from the silver spark, but the Presence wrapped Herself around them both, shielding them and protecting them, and the other could not touch them. All this was only distant, however.

Most of him was enraptured with the femme's spark he had been knocked into. Strength and power and the willingness to fight for what she believed in tempered and honed by her ability to forgive easily and love in totality, and her ability to adapt to the hand fate had dealt her. She loved another, had hoped to bond as such with that other, but when confronted with this unintentional bonding, she did not hesitate past the first taste of the loneliness and bitterness of his eternal existence and the wonderment with which he had beheld her spark for countless years. She opened herself to him and welcomed him and cherished him and forgave him for his unintentional part in destroying what dreams she had had. And though she did not love him, nor did she offer her love to him, he was content with what she could give, for in a bond such as what they were forming, love was as inevitable as the next collapse of the universe.

* * *

**Now, just in case no one got who was who:**

**'he' is Starscream. The silver spark belongs to Tsukino Usagi/Sailor Moon/Princess Serenity/Serena. The white spark belongs to Sailor Cosmos. The 'Presence' is no set character or God in either continuity. In my own head, I intend to call her the All Mother (get the play there?), and it is she who guides the rotations of the universe, and insures that life is born anew. Any questions, please don't be afraid to ask. I will answer.  
**


	15. A Matter of Self Interest

**Drabble #15:** A Matter of Self-Interest

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Starscream looks out for his own self-interest, as usual. Megatron simply wishes his army wasn't full of idiots.

**Inspiration:** I have no clue. I guess this came about as a way to try and get into Megatron's head-space, but, uh….well, it grew a life of its own. I was told this could have been posted as a one-shot, but I feel like it isn't complete, and would love it if someone could do _something_ with it. Then again, that's what I hope for _all_ of these drabbles. So far, no one's decided to play.

**Continuity:** G1, could be canon

* * *

"I think, perhaps, we shouldn't announce our presence here the way we usually do, my Lord." Starscream sounded slightly nervous, as he should, considering that he was, yet again, calling into question Megatron's plans.

Megatron grunted. Starscream had been frustrating him frequently lately, what with all his various attempts to undermine Megatron's authority. It hadn't escalated into outright treachery or Starscream's usually brand of mutiny yet, but Soundwave had assured him it was only a matter of time. Of course, considering the mutual hatred between the two, he wouldn't have been surprised if Soundwave was exaggerating the depth of Starscream's treasonous thoughts, but all the same, he knew better than to trust the seeker. "You are not here to question my orders, seeker," he snapped. "I gave my orders, and I expect to see them carried out _exactly_ as I issued them."

For a moment, there was silence. The soft, put-upon sigh was all the warning he had before Starscream's sharp claws grabbed his helm and forcefully turned it to the left, where Megatron immediately saw what had triggered his Second's cowardice this time.

Autobots. A _lot_ of Autobots. Discreetly hidden, of course, no ambush would succeed if they had been right out in the open. But there was no Autobot in existence could hide nearly half as well as well as even the dumbest of his Decepticons. The Autobots always seemed to forget about covering _all_ of their tracks, or, as it was in this case, that when one was hiding in the parking lot of a nuclear reactor in the middle of what the humans called "bum-fuck nowhere", mint-condition Lamborghinis and Porches didn't belong, and neither did shiny, just-washed semis. The Autobots where many things, possessed many brilliant minds and skill-sets (far more than the Decepticons did, much to Megatron's continued frustration), but they were lacking common sense at an almost criminal level. It was an effect of being civilian-caste.

It was also the only reason the Decepticons hadn't lost the war yet.

A quick check confirmed that his Decepticons were not yet in their sensor-range, which made the last minute changes to his plan a little easier to deal with. While he wasn't a coward by any stretch of the imagination, he did understand that the point of raiding the human's resources was to actually _obtain_ some said resources, and a first-thing battle against the Autobots was a deterrent to that goal. He might have risked it anyway, but they had precious little energon to begin with, and _most_ of his mechs were half-starved, not to mention more than a little …_slow_.

"Very well," he said, grudgingly. The claws released his helm. "What would you suggest?"

Starscream, thankfully, did not start gloating about how he was right or more fit to lead – Autobots or no Autobots, he wasn't sure he could have remained quiet while beating the slag out of his Second. Instead, the seeker shuttered his optics and said nothing for several long moments. Megatron waited patiently. Few in his army could plan on the fly like Starscream could; despite his many short-comings, there were several reasons why Megatron tolerated him and allowed him to retain his rank in the Decepticon Army, and his tactical genius was just one of them.

Despite the rumors, Starscream's original promotion, and continued existence, had not been because he had a nice aft, tempting wings, or a pretty face. (That Starscream just so happened to be an absolute _god_ in the berth had absolutely nothing to do with it, either.)

"Hmm," the seeker hummed softly, before rather abruptly standing. "Be prepared to enter the reactor in 3.7 clicks. You'll need to move fast and hard once I give the signal." And then he turned, and walked away.

Megatron sighed, irritated. That was it? "Starscream," he hissed.

The seeker paused only slightly. "Trust me," he called back softly, and then was gone.

Beyond irritated – trust Starscream? _Really_? - he nonetheless issued orders over his commlink for his army to pause where they were and maintain absolute silence, and turned his gaze back to the reactor they were already supposed to have taken hostage. His keen gaze quickly spotted the lone, non-descript human entering the nuclear reactor nonchalantly. The Autobots, on the lookout for Decepticon activity – which usually involved explosions – paid the human no mind. There was a long moment of questionable silence involving a lot of questioning of his orders, during which Megatron barely suppressed the urge to turn around and start beating the living slag out of his collective band of idiots – did they not understand the concept of _quiet_? – and then a shrill alarm sounded, and wave after wave of panicked humans poured out of the reactor, screaming about meltdowns. The Autobots, heroes that they were, wasted no time in scooping up the organics and driving them off to safety.

Megatron waited. Eventually, once the parking lot was absent of Autobots and humans, a lone human walked out just as care-free as he had entered. The human looked around for a brief moment, nodded, and then flickered out of existence. Holoform technology was exclusively Autobot; as far as Megatron knew, Starscream was the only one who had it installed. It came as no surprise now to Megatron that Starscream had left; the technology left the seeker highly vulnerable to attack, as maintaining a physical form so different from his own required _all_ of his considerable focus, leaving none to focus on the surroundings of his original form. If an Autobot discovered the seeker and decided to kill him, there was nothing Starscream could do to stop them. Starscream hated using the technology, mostly because he didn't trust any mech, not even his own brothers, enough to have them guard his unresponsive body.

Still, when given the choice between a slow, agonizing death of starvation, or a quick and completely un-felt deactivation, it didn't surprise Megatron at all that Starscream had acted in his own self-interest and chosen the lesser of evils.

Megatron had his signal.

"Decepticons," he roared. "Get your afts moving!" Hopefully they would manage to complete their mission successfully without him barking orders at them continuously. He had a highly-paranoid seeker to go locate, after all.

* * *

**So. Yeah. Ending came off kinda strange to me, but nonetheless, there it is. I really hope someone could flesh some life into this. As for why I wrote Megatron this way, I was watching G1, first-season again, and I was constantly face-palming (as usual). But as I started paying more attention, I began to realize that not many Decepticons are actually all that bright. The smartest ones are actually the ones running the army, which when you consider the various half-assed plots and absolute shenanigans some of them get up to, *coughcough**_**Starscream**_**coughcough* you can't help but think they're doomed. And the Autobots, sadly, weren't much better. **

**Now, mind you, I know that part of this is because it was a show meant for **_**young**_** children, and not young adults like the IDW graphic novels are, and so the creators really couldn't get into the sheer depth of characterization and bad-assery that the IDW comics can and do. Another part was that, for the first season in particular, there really wasn't much of a plot to begin with because the show was just meant to sell the toys. Admittedly, the show does get a little better in the second season, though I still maintain that it should only be watched for the sheer nostalgia of bad '80's cartoons. XD**

**Also, for those who actually pay attention to my other stories, and are waiting **_**very**_** patiently for me to update Endgame, don't despair! I have **_**not**_** abandoned that story, nor am I currently suffering writer's block or any such nonsense. I am still in the process of writing it, and I plan to update it by the 23****rd**** at the latest. The reason why it's taken so long is partially because I had a rotten string of exceptionally bad luck through July and August that I'll explain in more detail when I finally do update. Also, in September I restarted college, which doesn't leave me with a lot of time for writing fanfiction, let alone doing the research I need to do to write that particular story **_**well**_**. **

**That being said, as soon as I wrap up the first Interlude, it will be posted. **

**~Ceris Malfoy**


	16. Nine Tenths of the Law

**Drabble #16:** 9/10ths of the Law

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Megatron gave up nothing he considered his willingly, not even when the possession in question was a psychotic seeker bent on his destruction.

**Inspiration:** The new HBO series, A Game of Thrones. I'm in love with Daenerys and Vaserys' situation, and started to model an AU after it, but got sidetracked almost immediately. This is the result of the sidetracking. XD

**Continuity:** G1, with nods to IDW

* * *

Starscream stood, silent and still as was his nature, looking out at the vast Terran sky that was so different from what he was used to. He was thinking of many things, not all of them related, but each train of thought was carefully processed and followed; again, as was his nature. Starscream was a seeker, a war-build capable of much in the way of destruction, but was also a scientist, an insanely intelligent scientist with an atypical way of viewing the world around him.

Starscream, thanks to his scientific training, had long ago learned the benefit of patience, and despite how others of his frame-kin laughed at the mere thought of a war-build practicing anything but the art of war and violence, his predatory nature, already uniquely dangerous, had only been enhanced. The best predator, after all, was the one who laid in wait, silent and sure that his prey would come and spring the trap.

He had not been such a predator as of late, and if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had only himself to blame for his current situation. What in the name of the Unmaker had led him to not only act the ambitious fool, but to actually _continue_ to do so once he had been caught and properly disciplined? Starscream would have suspected tampering of some sort, perhaps a slight _adjustment_ to his neurological processors. However, not only was there the fact that the only mech capable of doing so as subtly as it would have had to have been done to escape his own notice for so long was _very_ dead, and had been so for more than several million years (and Soundwave, despite all his power, lacked the finesse needed), but there was also the fact that he had sudden "calm" moments in between the raging storms of his own insanity.

So, yes, he knew better. There was no tampering, no adjustments made by others. There was only the adaptive programming that he had known was entirely too strong but had refused to have removed and the crazed madness of a war without end, and, really, what had he expected? His adaptive programing had done the only thing it could do to keep him alive in such a war, and he had adapted to the very nature of it.

"Starscream."

He turned his gaze from the Terran sky and focused it upon his Lord and Master. The hulking frame was scarred and scuffed, with fresher, newer, deeper rents that still bled sluggishly, some with sky-blue paint flecks around their edges. Starscream glanced down at his own hands and noted absently that, yes, they were stained with his Lord's energon. He settled his gaze on his Lord again and frowned. He did not understand his Lord's continued amusement, nor did he understand why his Lord put up with his mania. He looked up once again met his Lord's optics. "Why?" he asked.

Megatron didn't say anything for a long moment. Eventually he walked closer to his second, stopping right beside him and turned his gaze to the sky as well.

Starscream watched him do so, but said nothing. Patience was key when it came to dealing with Megatron, something he often forgot when his mania took over. Megatron did everything in his own time, and no sooner.

Megatron smirked. "You're _mine_, Starscream," he finally said. "No matter what, you belong to _me_." There was a small pause and then Megatron's burning gaze settled on Starscream. "Do you really think the small matter of your behavior would make me relinquish what's mine?"

Part of Starscream wanted to protest that he was no one's, not even Megatron's. Part of Starscream wanted to cry out that Megatron could surely find another 'possession', one that wouldn't try to kill him in increasing frequency even as his lucid periods became smaller and farther apart. Most of him, however, was already practically purring under his Lord's burning gaze, proud under the assurance that even though his insanity had driven him to become a traitorous, back-stabbing, glitched coward, he was _still_ worth keeping.

* * *

**So, the idea behind this was that Starscream has gone completely bat-shit crazy, but has lucid periods during which he is his original loyal self. Megatron could care less. Starscream was his, had always been his, would always be his, regardless of how insane the seeker became. ...it had the potential for some crazy awesome possessive!sex, but, well, I kinda gave up after a month of just sitting there trying to write it. XD**

**Edit 01/22/12: Fixed a few spelling errors.  
**


	17. Do You See Me Now?

**Drabble****#16:** Do You See Me Now?

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** He needed his lord to be strong and in control. So when Megatron begins to show signs of weakness, enough to gather the attention of most of the other Decepticons, Starscream has no choice but to make his move. The only thing worse than having no master was having one that was weak and ineffectual. But are things really all that they seem to be?

**A/N:** Was re-reading All Hail Megatron ('cause it's my favorite part of the IDW verse) and got this crazy little idea in my head: What if Starscream had caught on to the fact that Megatron was baiting a trap? And what would happen after that? Would he still challenge Megatron for leadership? And if not, would Megatron, no longer already roughed up from the fight with Devastator, still fair the same in the fight against Prime?

I got some of it written, but as I'm in the middle of trying to wring Megatron's neck to get this damn Interlude for Endgame done and posted, this is probably not going to go anywhere for awhile, so I was hoping someone else might be interested in picking it up. If not, I'll get around to it eventually, but not anytime soon.

**Continuity:** IDW

* * *

Megatron stood silently again, watching the city burn.

Starscream did not care. This pointless conquering had gone on long enough. True it was a different city in a different country, but it was just like all the others in just how easily it was destroyed and conquered. These organic insects could have proven deadly in their sheer numbers, but as it stood, Thundercracker was right in his own way; there was no honor in this annihilation, no glory to be had.

No one would fear his name because he killed a few million worthless organics.

"Where to now?" Starscream's voice clearly startled the tyrant – as it should considering the care Starscream had taken to prevent Megatron from even knowing the seeker was even _in_ this country, let alone this city, next to him. Starscream smirked. Any other time he might have been welcomed, the proof of his secrecy, capability, and daring rewarded, but not now. No, at this moment in time, the tyrant was …_paranoid_, he supposed. Although, he had to wonder, was it really paranoia when someone really _was_ out to get you?

"_Again_ I find you alone!" Megatron muttered. Megatron turned to look at him, and Starscream obligingly leaned against a shadowed wall, presenting a casual front. "Are you a commander or -"

"Did you enjoy the parade?" Starscream interrupted him, voice cold but amused.

"Parade?" Megatron repeated, confused.

Starscream smiled at him. "A _grand_ march of destruction through this city – all that show… your beautiful speeches. Megatron: World Conqueror. Warrior King…." The smile turned mocking. "…_Poet_." Starscream lost the smile and just stared at his Lord, contemplating. "Where to now?" he asked.

"Starscream?"

"We've won," he continued. "We've succeeded in doing the impossible …or what seemed to be. You've proven your point: we win, they lose." Starscream gestured vaguely with one clawed servo. "Your philosophy – "

Starscream could see the exact moment Megatron caught on to what Starscream was subtly getting around to, and true to form, he wasn't pleased. Not. At. All.

"_Again_, Starscream?" the tyrant hissed, malevolence flaring through his energy field.

"_'__The mighty should rule.'_" Starscream continued. He would not back down, not now. He had backed down too many times already; had played the coward for far too long. Now, more than ever, he needed to say what he had to say.

"You and I find ourselves here _again_?" The incredulity could not be hidden despite the sheer anger that coated the words.

It had, admittedly, been several vorns since the last time Megatron had had to literally beat him into the ground to make him back down. Personally, Starscream had thought that all of this posturing was finally behind them, that his lord _understood_. Apparently, though, he'd been wrong, and so here he was, as Megatron put it, _again_.

"_'__The strong should conquer.'_"

Megatron snarled. "_**ENOUGH**_**!**" he roared, turning to face Starscream, bringing his fusion canon to aim directly at the seeker's spark.

Whereas by now he was usually begging for his life, this time Starscream didn't even flinch. His optics remained fixed on Megatron's face, watching, waiting, judging. "We're victorious in our war. Years. Countless _years_ of fighting …over." Starscream's optics narrowed. "We've succeeded, and for what? To kill _humans_? Destroy their pitiful _cities_?" He suddenly stepped away from the building into the full light of day, entire frame glittering sharply under the harsh light. _**"**__**WHERE TO NOW?**__"_ he shrieked in return.

It was most likely Starscream raising his voice in such a situation that had Megatron pausing. Starscream was volatile on the best of days, and could often be heard shrieking about this or that, but he usually knew where to draw the line. When Megatron was in front of him, fusion canon armed and aimed, he usually shut up pretty quickly. Starscream had spent many, many thousands of years building his cover of a treasonous coward, so he knew that his sudden behavioral change was …_off-putting_ to the tyrant.

"Countless years," Megatron repeated softly, staring at Starscream as if he'd never seen him before. "You're right. Countless years. _Endless_ years. Struggle without end. Death. Destruction. Torment." He gestured around them, at the smoldering remains of the city around them. "At last we find ourselves in the embrace of victory, and now, after so many years, the time to savor is upon us."

"Savor." Starscream sighed. It was as he feared.

"You are a _warrior_, Starscream." He shrugged lightly. "Take your dues. Enjoy the moment."

Starscream sneered. "A reward, then? _This_ is a _reward_?" He snorted and shook his head. "I am a _fool_. Because to me, this looks very much like a _distraction_. You have only yourself to blame for this, Megatron." Starscream turned his gaze to the sky. "You built yourself an army – followers – fed them on doctrine –"

The tyrant sighed. "Even in victory you are not content," Megatron murmured.

Starscream sent him a sharp look. "How long before they turn, do you think?" The seeker gestured wildly, fury growing, his spark spinning madly in his chassis. "When they realize this battle is going nowhere? Maybe then?"

Megatron said nothing for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch between them. Eventually he broke the quiet, his voice soft. "Cybertron is gone," he said. "This world will become our new seat of power during the galactic conquest and domination._ 'This battle is going nowhere'_? This battle is the future of our empire! We have taken a city in their most powerful of nations, once of significant strategic placement. By holding their people to ransom, we guaranteed hesitation. Like the Autobots, they believe in the sanctity of life – "

Starscream shuttered his optics. He could not look at his lord. "Our cruisers could have annihilated them from space," he said.

"Indeed," Megatron agreed. "But what of the enjoyment, the _challenge_? Fear. _Terror_." Megatron smirked at him. "Or are you not the _'master of these things'_?"

Starscream didn't respond for several long moments, simply remained leaning against the building, vents whirring softly. Finally, Starscream moved, standing talk and proud. The seeker opened his optics and looked at his lord. "_You_ are _stalling_," he declared softly. "We've beaten the only real threat…"

Suddenly, his mind screeched to a halt as he finally made sense of everything. Megatron's compliments, the almost-camaraderie between them, the stalling, the behavioral variances… Megatron had been baiting a trap, and he had almost been stupid enough to fall into it.

'_**You are skilled, powerful, and ruthless. You are the living embodiment of the Decepticon Ideal, and are merely a step away from completely embracing it. It is you who refuses to see that Starscream, not me.'**_

"You Primus-damned fool!" Starscream bit out, unsure of whether or not he was insulting Megatron or himself. He shuttered his optics and cycled air forcefully, attempting to calm the fury that was building steadily in his spark. He snarled, servos clenching hard enough that his claws bit heavily into the delicate plating, drawing thin rivulets of energon. He wanted to knock some Primus-damned sense into his lord, wanted to strangle him and scream at him until his lord _finally_ understood, finally _realized_ that Starscream _needed_ him to be the one in control. The pain, though, kept him centered just enough that he did not act on his urge.

With a voiceless snarl he turned and stalked off, leaving behind a slightly bewildered Tyrant.

* * *

**This fic is also being spawned by the idea that Starscream's constant treachery is not born of any particular desire to lead the Decepticons, but to reaffirm to himself that a) his _chosen_ lord is strong and b) (when it comes time for punishment) that he himself is alive. The pain helps steady him, helps keep him centered and in reality, whereas left to his own devices for too long, he begins to, well, insane doesn't quite begin to cover it. When you're the SiC of an entire army, and need to keep this sort of thing under wraps, who better to turn to then his lord and master? **

**Unfortunately for Starscream, he's never bothered to inform Megatron of this (and rightly so), so Megatron doesn't get that most of his "plots" were deliberately set up to fail. Megatron also doesn't understand that all Starscream really wants is the pain, but that his own hubris won't allow it to come from a mech below him. **

**If I ever get around to finishing this fic, it'll resolve that issue, and it will also resolve some of that ever infamous sexual tension between the two of them: such is the UST between them, that the other day, my straight, homo-phobic friend turned to me the other day after we were re-watching the G1 series and asked me: "Do they ever just fuck and get it over with?"**

**I lol'd. Hard. 'Cause as far as I know, Bay!Verse has been the only one to address this little issue, and even then, it was done so subtly that I still wonder if he knows what he did. (If he does, I also have to wonder if he did it to appease all the fan-girls who otherwise would have rioted for what he did to both Starscream and Megatron over the course of the three movies.)**


	18. Challenge: A Question of Worth

**Drabble #18:** Challenge: A Question of Worth

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Optimus Prime has been attempting to get Starscream to defect for quite some time. This time he finally has an offer that has managed to catch Starscream's attention quite nicely. Just what is Megatron willing to offer in return to keep Starscream a Decepticon?

**A/N:** Details about the challenge are below the story. :)

This has been rolling around in my head for quite some time, but I've never been actually able to write the whole thing, so I'm offering it up to anyone who wants a shot at it.

**Continuity:** IDW or G1 (or both, considering….)

* * *

"Will you join me, my Lord? I much desire to talk with you," Starscream's voice seemed sincere enough as he gestured to the only other seat at the table.

Megatron, nowhere near as overcharged as he'd like to be, eyed the seat with caution. There was a single large cube of high-grade (vintage, if both the smell and the color was any indication) and two smaller cubes set in preparation. In the past Earth year so far, Starscream had attempted to poison him no less than twelve times. If this was another attempt, not only was it a bold move – Starscream had never attempted something like this in front of any 'con who cared to look – but it was also a very poor one, as Megatron had only had half a cube of high-grade so far this evening. It was, however, an honest enough offer, if one took into consideration that the high-grade remained unpoured.

So he stared incredulously at his second in command, wondering if _Starscream_ was overcharged, as he would surely have to be to have taken such a leave of his senses. By what stretch of his imagination did Starscream actually believe that he would sit and talk and drink energon with the career traitor? Starscream, however, simply stared back at him, calm and steady with no hint of anxiousness or irritation as there would have been had this been another of his 'plans'; obviously ready and willing to wait as long as it took for Megatron to make his choice.

This was serious, then.

Megatron sighed, and cast a discreet glance around to see if anyone was paying any attention whatsoever to what was going on. Most of his Decepticons were passed out cold on the floor; too little recharge these past couple Earth months coupled with the hard day's (barely) victorious battle and too much high-grade afterwards sending most of them straight into stasis lock. The few who were aware were busy staring into their high-grade and trying to look like they hadn't been paying any attention to their commanding officers, and failing miserably while they were at it.

Three mechs, however, weren't even trying to pretend – all three were staring at Megatron and Starscream avidly. Skywarp and Thundercracker both had twitching wings and servos, optics bright and sharp and protective. Both of them, reasonably, suspected Megatron would loose his temper and beat Starscream, and both of them, for once, appeared ready to step in and put a stop to it if he did. Definitely not an assassination attempt then – Skywarp, for one, usually wouldn't make a single move to help his trine leader when he got caught, though for all his loyalty to Megatron he would never go as far as to betray what Starscream was planning. The third mech was Soundwave, and while reading that 'con was never easy, Megatron noticed the distinct 'don't frag this up' glint in Soundwave's visor.

Huh. He looked at Starscream again. "Very well," he said.

Starscream smiled at him, an admittedly small quirk of thin lip plating, but still something Megatron could honestly say was never directed at him even when the two of them _were_ getting along. Before the seeker could do anything else, Megatron reached out and grabbed the tip of one moon-white wing and pinched, harshly. A sharp sound – not quite a squeal or a scream or a whine – escaped his second's vocalizer before the sound cut out abruptly. Starscream's crimson optics narrowed, sharpening, honing in on him the way only a seeker's could, piercing him with a gaze that warned him that if he didn't let go, there would be hell to pay.

He pinched harder, feeling the thin metal buckle under the pressure. "I will sit, and talk, and drink with you, seeker," he hissed, "but I am warning you. My patience with your antics is at an all-time low. You had best watch yourself." He let go of the seeker's wing and sat down, watching Starscream, studying his movements.

(Soundwave, in his corner watching intently, already knowing what Starscream would be discussing with the tyrant, groaned. Though Megatron didn't know it, his 'warning' had just made any deal struck between the two of them more …_expensive_.)

Starscream said nothing in response, merely poured the high-grade, taking small sips out of both cubes as if to prove they weren't poisoned before handing Megatron his. He waited until Megatron took a sip before he casually placed a data-pad on the table in front of Megatron.

"I wish to talk to you about my continued existence as a Decepticon," Starscream started calmly. Starscream gestured at the data-pad, a half-smile, half-smirk crossing his facial plating as he continued. "Optimus Prime has been attempting to …_bribe_ me into changing sides for almost as long as he has been Prime. I, of course, usually just toss his proposals into the nearest waste receptacle where they belong, but this time he has sent me something I would be a fool to pass up, all things considering."

Megatron raised an optic ridge, leaning back and studying his second. He said nothing, waiting.

Starscream studied him in turn for a small moment; likely determining whether or not he was going to be beat down for this, continuing only when Megatron made no move to do so. "I wish to know what you would offer in return for my continued loyalty."

Megatron couldn't help the snort that escaped him. Loyalty? Starscream, _loyal_? "Loyalty doesn't have to be bought, seeker," he said. "If you were loyal, nothing Prime could offer you would sway you from my side. And besides, why should I negotiate for a career traitor, hmm?"

Starscream nodded, as if he expected this response. "While you do make a decent point, Megatron, might I remind you that I have millions of years worth of secrets – not just yours – stored away within my processor? I know battle plans, access file codes, security rotations, weapons designs, the firewall programming of every last mech to call themselves a Decepticon, and Primus only knows what else. And while some of it could theoretically be changed before the Autobots had any chance of using any of it, most of it can not. So, again, I ask: what are you willing to offer in return for my continuing to remain a Decepticon?"

Megatron laughed. "And what makes you think I'd let you leave this table alive, seeker? I could just kill you now and be done with it all – no more incompetent morons trying to kill me every other cycle, no more shrieking, no more –"

"No more seekers," Starscream interrupted calmly, optics shuttered, sipping at his high-grade as if he had not a care in the world.

Megatron paused and thought about this. "Explain," he finally said.

Starscream peered up at him, smiling. "Kill me now, because of _this_, and not a single seeker will ever answer your call again – not even Skywarp." He paused long enough to settle the cube down and lean back in his own seat, gaze firm on Megatron. "Whether they hate me or not, I am still their Air Commander, and every last one of them still follows the old codes. So go ahead, kill me, _mighty_ Megatron, and watch as what little lead you have against the Autobots simply _quits_."

Well then. Megatron sipped his high-grade and watched his second. Starscream had always been a devious mech – though he had been the first seeker recruited, Starscream had not become Air Commander until much later in the war, after he had bribed, murdered, and outright lied his way into the position. Megatron had always had his optic on the sneaky mech, having known that Starscream was a liability in every sense of the word, but unable to deny him a place in the Decepticon Army because, like him or not, Starscream had never lied when he said he was too valuable to kill. Very few mechs not already one of the 'elite' in the Decepticon Army were capable of _any_ of the things Starscream was, let alone able to do _everything_ as well as his jack-of-all-trades, entirely-too-smart-for-his-own-good seeker was. While they might joke about him, prank him, and outright flaunt his authority in the comfort of their base and under the watchful optics of Megatron, all the seekers gave Starscream their unconditional loyalty on the battlefield, a loyalty that was won after countless centuries of battles made only victorious because Starscream was as quick and adaptive as he was. And even when doing their best to prove their independence, there was a very clear hierarchal pecking order that Starscream was quite firmly entrenched on the top of.

Starscream's general worth, however, was tempered by his many faults: his arrogance, his cowardice, his sheer insanity….Megatron could go on long tangents listing his second's various faults without repeating himself once. He had more than once debated on simply killing the treasonous glitch and washing his servos of the whole mess, and every time he had the seeker on the edge, barely hanging onto life with a grim determination that impressed the warlord in spite of himself, Megatron could not help but hesitate. He hated the seeker, loathed his very existence, and yet … Megatron had long ago reached a sort-of zen-like acceptance of Starscream's presence in his life.

"What has Prime promised you should you defect?" he asked, feeling somewhat disturbed about this whole thing. He had never even known that Prime had been courting his seeker all these long years, though now that he thought about it, it didn't surprise him in the least. Whoever had the seekers had the edge in this war, and for a long time now that had meant that whoever had _Starscream_ had the edge.

Starscream again gestured to the data-pad lying so innocently between them. "I downloaded his entire proposal earlier this cycle for your perusal. You'll notice that Prime's signature is not the only one at the bottom."

For a brief moment he contemplated just upending the table, beating Starscream to a pulp, and washing his servos of the whole business. But… he sighed and grabbed the data-pad, shooting a dark look at Starscream in the process. He quickly glanced through the various promises, noting that each individually were worthless on their own, but added together put together a rather nice package. The usual sort of things were included – immunity for any past crimes committed for both Starscream and whomever decided to defect with him (meaning the rest of the seekers, Megatron assumed), command over the Autobot fliers, access to full medical treatment, etc, etc. Then his optics ran across the very last line on the proposal and felt his spark sputter in combined horror and appreciation.

'_I, Optimus Prime, do offer unto Starscream the position of Lord Consort, with all the rights and privileges that such a position would entail.'_

_Primus_. Prime was offering Starscream the only position in an Autobot-controlled Cybertron that would be equal to his own; he was offering to make Starscream his bonded-mate. And while he might want to wish that there was no way in Unicron's name that the Autobots would allow such a thing to happen, the list of signatures at the bottom said otherwise. Ever signature of the Autobot command was there, including the femmes.

He knew there was a reason why Prime had lasted this long in this war (Megatron had personally killed three Primes before him); he just hadn't realized that it was because the mech was just as sneaky and depraved as the seeker sitting across from him smiling as if the entire universe had just sworn loyalty to him.

Fool to pass this up, indeed.

* * *

**So, challenge details.**

**I'd like you to take the above scene and run with it. What do you think Megatron would do? Is this just a trap set by the Autobots to weaken the Decepticons? Will the other seekers follow Starscream and join the Autobots, or will they simply declare neutrality? **

**It's all up to you. **

**Now, this can be one of the following: Optimus/Starscream, Megatron/Starscream, or Optimus/Starscream/Megatron, depending on what you like and how you take it. If you would prefer another pairing, as long as you can reasonably bring it about without messing with the bonded-mate part of the deal, go for it. **


	19. Ironhide's Bad Day

**Drabble #19:** Ironhide's Bad Day

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** He just shouldn't have gotten out of his berth today.

**A/N:** Me just writing out a back story for something I'm planning to start writing once Endgame is finished. This is supposed to be a funny, semi-crack story, but I think it teetered into serious territory too much to properly work as such.

**Continuity:** G1 with nods to IDW-verse, AU

* * *

"_Some days are for living. Others are for getting through."_

_~Malcolm S. Forbes_

Perhaps, Ironhide reflected to himself, he should have listened to whatever instinct had told him to stay in his berth today. As it was, things had started out beautifully enough – they had trounced the Decepticons' collective afts and even managed to take the Second in Command prisoner. It had amused Ironhide greatly to see the so-called Slag-maker storming around like a spoiled sparkling throwing a tantrum, calling out death threats and promises of retribution if they didn't hand over _his_ seeker right this second. Not that Megatron had a chance in the pit – even Ironhide knew who the brains of that operation was, and said brain was currently sitting in the brig clinging to his Prime like Cosmic Rust, which is where his day had tottered off merrily into crazy-town.

He had been on the way to get some energon when he had heard the screams. He had wasted no time in rushing down to the brig, shooting his way through some doors that refused to open fast enough. What he had seen shook him to the core: Optimus Prime was _growling_ and flinging poor little Bumblebee around like a toy, while Starscream watched, body taught and ready to pounce, optics swirling in various shades of gold, orange, crimson, and blinding white. Bumblebee was already seriously injured, as Optimus was obviously not holding back the way he usually did during spars, and as the mech could go hand-to-pede with Megatron, Bumblebee had no chance.

Ironhide could not bring himself to fire on his old friend, crazed or no, so did the second best thing and got Bumblebee out of there. He took a few nasty blows himself, but nothing that couldn't be fixed, and, to his immense relief, once they were a certain distance away, Optimus turned back to Starscream and cuddled the seeker, still watching them warily – with no recognition in his too-blue optics – and still growling.

After Bumblebee had been coddled and repaired and reassured that he had done nothing wrong – or at least nothing to warrant an almost-deactivation – the rest of the crew settled in Red Alert's lair to review the security tapes covering the brig. What they saw startled all of them. They watched, amazed and a bit disturbed as both Starscream and Optimus engaged in a staring match that only broke when Starscream suddenly lunged for the energy bars. Doing so was a quick way to fry one's internals, but none of them had time to worry, as just as quickly as Starscream lunged, so too did Optimus have the energy bars down. The seeker slammed into Optimus, and everyone's jaw dropped at what happened next.

They were …kissing? Groping? Trying to devour the other's spark through their mouths? Hands where roaming, panels were shifting, and far quicker than anyone had time to process, sparks were bared and joined. All of them watched with wide optics as both overloaded and fell into recharge. The tape was fast-forwarded to the point where Bumblebee broke into the brig, attempting to get his first up-close and personal view of a seeker, and instead ended up getting an up-close and personal view of Prime doing his best interpretation of a mad-mech. They watched as, on the screen, Ironhide rushed in, obviously alerted and alarmed by Bumblebee's screaming, and nearly getting deactivated himself in attempting to get the youngling out of sight.

This, of course, sparked quite the discussion, which involved, but was not limited to, deactivation of the seeker, plans to contact Megatron and get Starscream out of their brig in hope that that meant Optimus would return to normal, processor wiping the seeker – which Skyfire in particular rather loudly disagreed with.

Eventually, Mirage sighed. "I hate to break into this fascinating discussion, but need I remind you that there was a reason that the Primes of Cybertron were given the title of 'Prime', and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were supposedly descended straight from Primus? And that, incidentally, there was also a reason that the Autobot Senate strove to completely wipe out the seeker race – and it had everything to do with their leader's wild, feral sparks?"

There was a long moment of silence, before Ratchet got a strange smile on his face even as he started cursing under his breath and Skyfire burst out laughing. Prowl promptly fritzed, and Jazz simply leaned back and smiled, for once seeming content and serene – which was a warning sign to those who knew him that he had just did something and gotten away with it. Wheeljack just looked confused, as did Perceptor.

Ironhide himself had no fragging clue what was going on, and didn't appreciate being left out of the loop. One of his oldest friends had apparently just lost his damn mind, and they had a semi-free, glitched-beyond-repair Decepticon seeker currently playing cuddle-buddy with said oldest friend. He wasn't amused, and he didn't think anyone else had any reason to be either. "What _are_ you talking about?"

Mirage glanced at him, but didn't answer for a few moments. The spy looked at Ratchet, who nodded. "Go ahead and tell him, Mirage. It's not like the old busy-bodies are alive to punish you for it."

Mirage nodded, and faced Ironhide. "I only know this because my sire was a Senator that had a passion for history, especially history that the other Senators didn't want the average mech to know. Ratchet knows, I think, because his line has served as medics to the Senate and the line of Primes for generations."

Ratchet smiled grimly. "True. Not that we had much choice about it."

Skyfire wasn't laughing any more. Nor was he smiling. In fact, he looked rather ashamed. "And I know because I was once chosen by the senate to prevent Starscream from rising into power completely."

Ironhide growled. "Someone start explaining this nonsense to me!"

Mirage made a calming gesture, and then starting speaking. "Once upon a time, long before Cybertron had been united under one government, there existed many 'clans.' Each clan had its own culture and its own language. Most clans were small, many being extended familial units, while some clans being so intertwined do to bonding and various alliances that none of them could tell as to which clan they truly belonged to. This gave rise to the 13 Great Clans. The Great Clans were called so because their territory stretched far beyond what any other clan could claim. Each of the Great Clans was ruled over by mechs with strange gifts. Some could teleport from one end of the planet to another in the blink of an optic, others could move things without touching them, others still were capable of deactivating a mech by looking at them. They were smarter than your average mech, and all of them seemed to be able to 'listen' to things no one else could hear, aided by a strange artifact they called a 'Matrix' that all of them kept close to their spark. It was rumored amongst the various clans that each of the 13 leaders of the Great Clans were Primus' chosen, that they were the mechs to lead them into a new era. And, once the rumors had spread to all the clans across Cybertron, all the smaller clans united themselves to the 13 Great Clans. For a while, there was peace.

"But one clan refused to unite with any other. This clan was made of fliers, sleek and deadly and untouchable. They had mocked the others for many vorns for their uncivilized ways, having long ago settled in their territory and built a city and a government and an army capable of defending against any of the Great Clans. They were far more educated then even the 13, having had many generations with which to explore their world and the builds capable of leaving their planet in search of more information. They were always seeking more – more knowledge, more territory, more _power_. For their insatiable curiosity and obvious greed, the other clans had given them the title of 'Seeker,' though the fliers called themselves Voxni."

Mirage paused, frowning. "All of the histories disagree with what happened next. At some point between the unification of the many thousands of clans into 13 clans and the unification of the whole of Cybertron, the 13 leaders came into contact with the 'Winglords' of the Voxni – 13 winged mechs of exceptionally volatile behaviors, mechs who were faster, smaller, stronger, smarter, and more wild than any other of their breed. Some other histories say that there was a battle between the 26 mechs, one that the leaders of the 13 clans won. Other say that the 13 Winglords had long understood that despite their perceived clear superiority, that their isolation from the other clans was slowly killing them, as they had less and less winglets with each passing generation as they became too interbred. Still other claim that neither group had a choice about what happened – that Primus himself interfered and forced the unification.

"What is clear is that 13 leaders went to Vos to arrange, at the very least, a trading system and instead emerged spark-bonded to the 13 Winglords. The 13 leaders went into Vos as calm, rational mechs, and emerged as rational yet almost-feral lords with mates twice as feral and three times as ruthless. Their behavior was …_primal_ in its ferocity when it came to defending their new mates and it was from their behavior that they were given the titles of 'Prime'."

"The beginning of the Dynasty of Primes," Perceptor said, quietly.

Mirage nodded. "Yes."

Wheeljack frowned. "What happened? How did this become forgotten? How did Optimus not know of this?"

Ratchet snorted. "The _Quintessons_ happened. They invaded Cybertron, enslaved it, tore apart the culture and forced the Primes to heel. The Winglords, feral and protective over what they perceived as theirs, were murdered when they refused to submit. The Primes became shadows of what they once were. Eventually, the Quintessons were overthrown, but the damage had already been done. The Dynasty of Primes had only 3 Primes left, where once there had been as many as 39 at one point. And there were no more Winglords."

Mirage took up the narration again. "In the resulting generations, as the Dynasty of Primes continued to fade, a senate was put in place to help the governing of Cybertron. Eventually, the Senate became the guardians of the Primes, choosing who would next lead the people. By the time of the Age of Justice, there was only one Prime and only one Matrix, and that Prime had no relation to any Prime before him. The Dynasty had been broken. This age was a dark one for the seekers, as many felt that it was the seekers and their off-world travels that had brought the Quintessons to Cybertron. Maybe they were right. After many fights and outbreaks of almost-cival war, the seekers withdrew almost completely from Cybertronian society, taking with them all their knowledge and all their culture, forcibly deleting anything about them from our records. The only copies left were those in the ancient archives.

"By the time of the Golden Age, seekers were feared and reviled because they were a deadly, secretive race that refused to mingle with those not of their frame-set, refusing to forget or forgive the wrongs they felt were completely unjustified. They considered those without wings little more than savage brutes incapable of higher learning. The senate didn't help matters as with each passing vorn and with each new Prime, they began to become greedy and corrupt. They knew that the seekers had almost completely rebuilt their culture – there were even reports that a new Winglord had been sparked – and that the only thing preventing the re-birth of the true dynasty and the end of their power was the complete isolation of the seekers. They passed laws and started rumors, and by the time Megatron rose to power, there were hardly any mechs on Cybertron who would consider the seekers as anything other than demons sparked by Unicron himself."

There was a long moment of silence before Wheeljack spoke up. "What I don't understand is how _Starscream_, of all mechs, fits into all this."

Skyfire sighed. "You haven't guessed? Starscream _was_ the reason that the rumors started about a Winglord. Even at a young age he had fit all the criteria gleaned from the histories about Winglords. He was abnormally small and agile for his age, with a processor that ran at speeds most full-grown mechs couldn't keep up with. His temperament was capricious at best, and his protectiveness over what he considered 'his' was daunting. Even as a sparkling, he was deadlier than the others. He had been sparked with claws and denser alloy, not to mention his thicker alloy which made kicks that much more painful. He had been a youngling when he enrolled in the Iacon Academy of the Sciences, and the only reason the Senate didn't deny his placement was because of just how intelligent Starscream was. He very easily could have taught himself and risen through Vosnian ranks, and the Senate didn't want that, didn't want an unknown power rising without making at least some attempt at controlling it. And for awhile, they could."

Perceptor shot him a look that wasn't entirely friendly. "Because of you."

Skyfire nodded. "Because of me," he agreed. "I was a TA at the time, and Starscream was assigned to me particularly because a) I was a flier with the uncanny ability to soothe even the most temperamental youngling, and b) because Starscream was already too smart to be placed with his age-mates. Starscream may have been volatile and headstrong and too smart for his own good, but he was also a youngling in a new place surrounded by mechs who would have gladly tossed him out on his aft if they thought they could get away with it. I showed him simple kindness and Starscream latched onto me with a fervor I never thought I'd see in one so young."

"And then you had your accident and the Senate lost its control," Perceptor murmured. "So that's why…"

"He never did tell me what happened after he returned after he got me out of that ice," Skyfire prompted.

It was Perceptor's turn to sigh. "It wasn't pretty, Skyfire." He paused, as if unsure of whether or not he should even be speaking before meeting Skyfire's gaze and holding it. "Starscream returned half-dead and raving. He had been drifting for too long alone in the void of space with empty tanks, and when he crashed into Cybertron, he was almost ordered to be deactivated. It was only because they wanted to know what happened to you that the Senate held off on the order. It took him a full-quarter vorn to recover physically, and another vorn and a half to retain some semblance of rationality. Personally, I don't think he ever really did regain his sanity, but that's neither here nor there. The medics treating him declared him mentally sound, and he was released, after which he was immediately detained by the Peace Keepers on suspicion of murder."

"Murder?" Skyfire broke in, startled? He had known it had been bad, but _murder_ charges?

Again, Perceptor hesitated. "There were logs, recordings of the things Starscream had said during his 'unstable' period that cast many doubts as to what happened. That he was a seeker, and that his memory had large chunks very conveniently missing, did not help his case. He couldn't be charged with murder because there was no definitive proof, but he also couldn't be allowed to simply go on with his life because there was no proof of his innocence either. The Senate stripped him of his degrees, gave all credit of his inventions and discoveries to you, and forbade him to step foot in Iacon again. After that, the next time I heard about him was on the news, where he was fingered as one of the first seekers to join Megatron's cause, and the leader of the trine responsible for the break in and murder of the entire Senate."

"Primus," Skyfire whispered, clearly distressed.

Ironhide had enough. "But what the hell just happened down there?" he broke in, not quite shouting, but damned close to it. "This history lesson is all well and good, but my friend just completely flipped his lid and damn near came close to killing a half-trained youngling for coming near a pit-spawned Decepticon! And to make matters worse, the Decepticon is the Second in Command seeker that he just fragged!"

Mirage started. "Ironhide – " He stopped, obviously unsure about how to handle this.

Ratchet huffed. "Haven't you been listening? Starscream is a _Winglord_, or so close to being one that it doesn't really make a difference. Optimus is a _Prime_, one of the few we've had since the Senate got their grubby hands on the Matrix that actually lives up to the title, and, believe me, there have since been a few discreet enquiries on whether or not the dynasty was really as dead as the senate made it out to be. There has always been one Winglord per true Prime, and each Winglord was only ever drawn to one Prime – sometimes waiting for many vorns before their Prime came into power. If memory serves me correctly, this is the first occasion where the two of them were in such close proximity to each other – and apparently, unlike the previous two senate-chosen Primes, Optimus is _Starscream's_ Prime."

"No," Ironhide bit out, repulsed by the very idea.

"Yes, Ironhide," Mirage said, not unkindly. "They've bonded. A Winglord and a Prime has finally bonded after all these years. The Dynasty is going to be reborn – provided of course, that a) Megatron doesn't storm the base and try and take back the seeker he's claimed as his, and b) that they are left alone long enough to settle the bond and allow rationality to reclaim them."

Ratchet sighed. "Primus, but I do hate the instinctive phase of newly-bonded couples."

"And just think, Ratchet," Mirage grinned, "this time it's between a _true_ Prime and a Winglord – they'll give a new meaning to the term 'protective.'"

"Kill me now," the medic groaned, almost playfully.

Ironhide goggled at his long-time friend/sparing partner and decided today had definitely been the wrong day to get out of his berth.

* * *

**So? This is obviously an AU, and takes place almost directly after _Fire in the Sky_. Obviously, I changed a few details, but nothing too distracting. Megatron is still a bit out of it – after 9 million years asleep, his processor's kinda fuzzy – though he will regain his cool, and quite possibly his seeker.**

**After all, we all know how much Starscream likes to be typical. He and Optimus Prime may now be bonded, but once self-awareness returns, he's not going to suddenly become a lovey-dovey Autobot. There are reasons why he chose to become a Decepticon in the first place, and then there's still the matter of his tentative love/hate relationship with Megatron to consider as well. Just because his coding over-rides his conscious will once confronted by Optimus Prime, and vice versa, doesn't mean either is going to be very happy about it. **

**This was also written to try and practice my dialogue writing - as my regulars might have realized, I much prefer to write without dialogue at all. Lol.  
**


	20. Threat

**Drabble #20:** Threat

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Of all the Decepticons to be caught that night, betrayed by one he had thought to be loyal, he was only one of two to be left alive; kept alive because he was their leader, and no one wants a martyr. But that's okay, because Starscream isn't about to sit idly still. Death was coming, and it was not coming for him.

**Inspiration:** Just a thought I had when I was reading Megatron Origins. Remember that scene where most of the Decepticons deliberately get caught and Megatron tells Starscream "everything" about his plans? Well... I'll explain at the end of this chapter, as I don't want to ruin the drabble for you. XD

**Continuity**: AU! IDW

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

"Tell me about the seeker," Ratbat orders, watching the playing vid-file just as avidly as Megatron is.

Megatron says nothing, for what information can he give that Soundwave does not already know? It had been on Soundwave's recommendation that he had recruited Starscream in the first place, and he had based his plans for them on the information that Soundwave had provided about their abilities and temperaments. "Why not ask Soundwave?" he finally asks.

Ratbat chuckles, amused. "I know his records and his statistics well enough, but my sire, for all his intelligence, cannot give me the knowledge that I seek." Ratbat turns his cold, distant gaze upon Megatron. "You, however…. You are not one to rely on dry facts and impersonal data. You understand that no one can be categorized into neat compartments; you understand that there is chaos in the sparks of all. So tell me, Megatron, why does he continue to fight? Why does he and his kin slaughter all that cross their path in battle, friend and foe alike? Why, despite this, despite your imprisonment, does he continue to gather followers _– in your name_?"

'_I pledge my undying loyalty to you….'_

Why indeed? Megatron watches the vid-file displaying the seeker in question as he tears through the mechs surrounding him, crimson optics bright and furious, a snarl twisting his pretty facial-platting into something grotesque and fearsome, formerly pristine armor stained with energon and soot, wings chipped and smoking and obviously useless.

'_I am more than a match for any of these pathetic mechs in your arena!'_ Starscream's brittle voice once had told him, and Megatron had laughed then, thinking that the seeker's words were mere boast. Starscream's thin plating, delicate build, and sensor-rich wings had all but guaranteed it, and he had a use for the intelligent flier that did not include wasting valuable resources putting him back together again.

He is not laughing now.

No. Now he sees the truth of those words with each corpse that falls before the grounded seeker's advancing pedes. Starscream's aim with his null-rays was unthinkingly accurate, his claws deadly, his speed unmatched.

The old tales said seekers were "death with wings". They said that seekers were relentless and ruthless and possessive beyond reckoning, and that once a seeker's loyalty was won and their rage provoked, there was no force that could stop them. The old tales had been laughed at, scorned for years beyond measure by 'civilized' mechs, both flier and grounder alike. The seekers, on the other hand, had simply shaken their helms with an amused smile, saying nothing on the matter.

Megatron sees why they had been amused, now. Civilized mechs had laughed, but it is the seekers – _Starscream _– who are laughing now. Cybertron had forgotten the monsters they've harbored in their midst; have abused and maligned a force unlike anything they could possibly understand, and now they would pay for it. Starscream, he thinks with something not unlike fondness, will finish what he had started.

Ratbat, perhaps sensing that Megatron will say nothing in response to his questions, sighs. "No matter," the senator muses softly. "He will be stopped soon enough. And without him to goad them, the so called 'Decepticons' will falter once and for all."

Megatron smiles, because he knows that Starscream will _not_ be stopped, not any time soon, probably not ever.

* * *

**Okay, so my thought about this was that Soundwave either A) has been playing Megatron for a fool the entire time, or B) decides that Megatron's "vision" did not aline with his own goals. Either way, Megatron's "plan" was doomed from the start. Most of the Decepticons were captured, but Starscream "betrays" Megatron (on his own order) to get in to see the council. Starscream, for whatever reason, recognizes Soundwave, and has never trusted him, and makes his own plans, which goes into effect as soon as he has proof that Soundwave has betrayed Megatron. Starscream escapes and retreats to Vos, where he begins to plot and plan something that is not war, but straight-up anhilation. His seeker breathren come to his call, and as he advances across Cybertron, more and more mechs join for the same reason they joined Megatron: they have no where else to go, no one else who will take them. Starscream eventually makes his way back to the now heavilly-reinforced Kaon and practically tears it apart in search of Megatron. **

**That's about as far as I've gotten in terms of plot, but I really don't have any plans to finish this. Maybe one day when I'm not being run ragged on other projects. XD**


	21. The Ruler and the Killer

**Drabble #21:** The Ruler and the Killer

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Shameless.

**Inspiration:** Uh…the movie **Magic Mike** might have had something to do with this... XD Not to mention the song "The Ruler and the Killer" by Kid Cudi. As usual, not finished.

**Continuity**: IDW, shortly after Megatron: Origins

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

The drums pounded rhythmically and Starscream, overcharged as he was, couldn't help himself. Strong beats had always been a certain fetish of his, and this one had a particularly sinister edge to it that even had he not been completely trashed would have compelled him to dance. Easily he slid through the boisterous Decepticons partying through the last of their high-grade. (And why shouldn't they? Sentinal Prime's head was currently on a spike. And that was only _one_ of the best events of the day!) Once he was in the center of the room, where there was enough room to move as he willed without risking his wings, he began to dance.

Slowly, at first, getting a feel for the beat. His optics shuttered, leaving nothing but the darkness, the beat, and whatever images his inebriated processor would decide to flash at him. He rocked back and forth, slow, as if taunting the beat, canting his hips and rolling the rest of his body smooth and fluid. He paused, head tipped back, arms in the air, wings fluttering, and lips pursed in a knowing smirk.

And then he _really_ started to move.

* * *

The drums were giving him a migraine. Megatron snarled wordlessly. He did not demand the music to be turned off – he sincerely doubted that anyone was sober enough to do so – nor did he leave. His burgeoning army deserved this party. They had driven the Autobots out of Kaon, murdered most of the Senate, disposed of the Prime, and successfully raided the Peace-Keepers' energon supplies. It had been a good day indeed.

But that didn't mean that he had to like to music that his mechs favored. He winced at a particularly savage thrum from some god-awful instrument that was probably _not_ meant to be played like that, and turned his helm, immediately catching sight of Starscream, who was moving towards the center of the room with the single-minded determination of the overcharged.

Megatron snorted. Even drunk off his aft, the seeker was still all fluid movements and predatory grace. The seeker paused once he was in the center, helm cocked and optics half-shuttered, listening. Starscream shifted his hips, rocking back and forth on his pedes, rolling his upper body smooth and slow. Megatron got the sudden image in his processor of what Starscream might look like while interfacing, and watched attentively, interested despite himself. He doesn't like Starscream, finds him to be entirely too self-centered for his taste, but he does have to admit that Starscream makes for a very pretty mech, and a very deadly one, considering that it was he that pretty much single-handedly killed the senate.

So he watched. There was a tiny break in the song, a period of almost-blissful silence during which Starscream also paused, hips cocked, hands in the air, optics completely shuttered, surprisingly full lips spread in a knowing smirk that only highlighted his arrogant nature. Then the drums started again, and – _oh_.

Starscream _really_ started to move then, and Megatron's core temperature skyrocketed. It wasn't the dance in of itself – any half-way decent pleasure-drone could dance better – it was the _way_ he danced. Starscream was by nature a predator; he was a sparked warrior, with a certain ruthless cruelty that put others of his frame-set to shame. To make matters worse (or better, depending), Starscream was very, very intelligent. That intelligence lent him something that his slight build and senor-rich wings would always deny him – strength and power.

And Starscream's dance reflected that. Lethal claws delved and twisted in the air, sometimes caressing an invisible partner, other times mangling invisible opponents. His hips rocked back and forth as his powerful legs adjusted his center of gravity easily and decisively. Every movement was calculated and performed around the beat of the drums, owning it, teasing it, completely and utterly _dominating_ it. Most mechs moved in rhythm with an over-powering beat; Starscream moved in counter to it, through it and over it, sliding through the harsh, sinister noise as easily as if it were the air which was his domain. His dance was not one of lust and seduction – though both could easily be inspired by it in the right sort of mechs – but one that knocked a mech upside the helm and said, '_Look at me. See how deadly I am, how deadly I could be, if I put my mind to it._'

That Starscream was obviously overcharged while he was doing it only made the image he was currently presenting all the more powerful.

Megatron saw, and he wanted.

* * *

**Someone _please_ take this and do something more with it? This bunny has been chewing at my brain constantly, and I'm pretty sure it wants to be adopted. XD**


	22. Protecting Prime

**Drabble #22:** Protecting Prime

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** Trust. Orion relaxed lightly. He could do that. He could trust the seeker who had already proven himself to be every inch the Lord High Protector he was supposed to be.

**Inspiration:** Just a universe I decided to tweak a bit. I liked the concept. XD

**Continuity**: AU!G1/Bay!verse merge

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

Orion shrunk back, quivering at the sight of the Peace Keepers. Unbidden, memories of being pulled from his berth in the middle of the night and the pain and changes that followed rose up and threatened to send him screaming from the room. Only sheer force of will, and the knowledge that the seeker-Lord standing on the floor below would protect him, kept him from crying out or moving.

Either action would draw the attention of the Peace Keepers. Either action would land him right back into the hands of the Council. Either action would end up with him being a puppet-Prime, a mech too uneducated and too naïve to truly be able to lead the people the way Primus wished. His only hope was in staying silent, staying still, and letting the seeker below deal with things.

He watched as the Peace Keepers started to get belligerent, started to raise their voices, started to crowd around the slim seeker with clear intent to get what they wanted by any means necessary. Orion was afraid for the seeker, but something inside him – the Matrix? Primus? – told him to watch, and to trust.

Trust. Orion relaxed lightly. He could do that. He could trust the seeker who had already proven himself to be every inch the Lord High Protector he was supposed to be.

* * *

"Where is he, seeker?" the leader of the group – a rather bulky grounder by the designation of Sharpsteel that Starscream was unfortunately rather familiar with – cried out, angry at his taunts. Starscream merely smiled pleasantly –for him – and shrugged, not saying a word. Distantly he was aware of the new Prime on the level above, watching, but dared not look. Looking would give away the young mech's position, and Starscream didn't want that.

"We know he's here!"

Starscream raised an optic ridge, still smiling. "I have over twenty different guests currently sharing my _humble_ home, several of whom are Senators," he said agreeably. Unlike the mech before him, he did not allow his voice to rise past a pleasant rumble. The part about guests was true, and was the part about senators, and he would much rather their displeasure be on someone else's helm should they awaken do to these …_groundlings_. Not that they could do much to him, but still. One must be polite about these things. "Please do be more specific – I'd hate to see you lose your job because you had me awaken the wrong one."

Sharpsteel snarled. "Don't play games! The new Prime; where is he?"

Starscream's smile widened. "And how should _I_ know?" He deliberately took his gaze off Sharpsteel to look at his claws in a much-practiced gesture of nonchalance. "I haven't even been formally _introduced_ to the mech – the Council _certainly_ hasn't seen fit to follow procedure and produce the chosen applicant for my approval. For all I know, your ma'ar* is the new Prime, though Unicron knows that choice would be truly scrapping the bottom of the barrel." His smile was now wide enough to show his denta, multiple rows of sharp, serrated edges. He rarely had cause to show them off anymore, and, regrettably, most mechs forgot just how disturbing the sharp contrast of those denta set in his admittedly lovely face actually was. He was enjoying this immensely. Even if the baby Prime upstairs turned out to be worthless, he'd still protect him, simply for the amusement it was bringing him. But that one wouldn't be, he knew. He could feel Unicron's mutinous glee at the stupidity of the council, and Unicron wouldn't be nearly half as amused if the new Prime wasn't actually worthy of the title. So far, Starscream could safely say that the baby Prime would be the first since Decidius Prime almost 50 vorns ago.

He was looking forward to seeing what the mech upstairs would bring to the table.

"The council doesn't have to have your approval for anything!" Sharpsteel growled out. "Stop lying and produce the new Prime _now_. We know he's here and we're not leaving until he's safely within our custody!"

Starscream sighed and looked back at Sharpsteel, then shifted his gaze to each of the other six mechs who stood around him, studying them intently. "No," he said, softly. "I don't think I will."

There was silence as all the mechs in the room processed this. Starscream watched them all, still smiling. When Sharpsteel raised his fists and stepped forward, Starscream was prepared. Sharpsteel made as if to punch him while the other mechs started to close in. Starscream was having none of it. Just as the punch would have landed, he swiftly ducked down and pivoted, raking his claws down Sharpsteel's side as he went, drawing deep furrows in the semi-thick metal. Energon welled up immediately, even as Sharpsteel gave a sharp cry of pain and jerked back, awkwardly upsetting his center of gravity and collapsing to the side. Starscream reached down and grabbed Sharpsteel by the throat, easily bearing his weight as he pulled them both up. He tightened his grip, digging his claws into the mech's energon lines, and the other mechs paused.

"_Enough_," he said. "I've allowed you to park your paranoid afts right outside my doorstep, despite the vast quantities of Cybertronian laws you are, in fact, breaking in doing so. I've allowed you to disturb my sleep on numerous occasions to answer you ridiculous accusations and even stupider questions. I've allowed you to interrogate my guests over the pettiest of infractions with only a minor show of protest. I've allowed you to run things your way for too long; this ends _now_." He shook Sharpsteel sharply.

Another Peace Keeper, one Starscream was not familiar with, spoke up. "What right do you have seeker!"

"I have _every_ right, you pompous excuse for organic excrement! I am the Lord High Protector – Unicron's _Chosen_! I outrank every mech you work for with the exception of the Prime, and by your own bylaws, am considered his equal." His smile grew feral. "You can tell the Council that I am _done_ with cooperating with you miserable slaggers, and if they dare stick their olfactory sensors into my business again, I will slaughter each and every one of them and return Cybertron to its roots – as is my _right_!" He threw Sharpsteel at the closest Peace Keeper and deliberately turned his back on the lot of them. "Now, you will vacate my property this very moment, or _else_."

The sound of retreating pede-falls filled him with amusement, before he sighed. The easy part was over. Now he had a Prime upstairs that he had to acquaint with both the soon-to-be developing 'gifts' that came with being the chosen of a god, and his rights as a Prime. Not to mention teach the mech practically everything else - Starscream hadn't missed just how uneducated his guest was. He wasn't sure where the Council scrounged the mech up, but it certainly wasn't from their usualy choices of Tower-born rejects. Speaking of, he should make a note to browbeat the Council into some semblance of order sometime soon. Not for the first time since his ..._promotion_, he cursed his aft of a predecessor. Megatron had been a useless slagger - it was no wonder the Dark God had gotten so irritated with him.

* * *

**Alright. So. Anyone interested yet? Yes, I am deliberately fucking with things. And yes, I enjoy it greatly. XD**

**In this AU verse, Primus and Unicron exist in relative harmony in a sort of give-and-take relationship. Though they don't particularly like each other, both recognize that they are both essential to the creation of Cybertronian life, and as such history as the Cybertronians know it is vastly different from what we recognize in any of the series. Primus created his people, and so did Unicron. Throughout the resulting generations, the two different breeds of Cybertronians have become so interbred that there is no longer any distinction; they are both children of Primus and children of Unicron. In order to properly govern over them, both Prime and Unicron have their 'chosen'. Prime speaks through the Matrix, and allows his children the freedom of choice – which has backfired spectacularly in the past several generations, as the Council grew corrupt and began choosing the worst possible candidates for the role of Prime. Traditionally no new Prime can be chosen without the consent of the Lord high Protector, as they both need to be able to work together, but the Council has largely ignored that for quite some time. Unicron, on the other hand, relies on no bauble to choose his chosen. He chooses who he wants, and marks their sparks accordingly. If his current chosen falls out of his favor, that chosen will have an 'unfortunate accident' and a new mech bearing the distinctively-colored spark will come forward.**

**As for what the situation in this scene is:**

**I read somewhere – can't remember where – that Optimus Prime never got a choice about being a Prime, that he was reformatted by force by desperate mechs. I took that and ran with it (of course). So here we have an Orion Pax who, while he understands that he is now Prime, is frightened out of his wits and is partly traumatized by both the events surrounding his ascension to Prime-hood, and the responsibility he knows he's not ready for. He runs, and partly on instinct, partly following the urging of Primus through the Matrix, finds his way to Starscream, the current Lord High Protector. Starscream has only been Lord High Protector for several vorns, and isn't well-respected or well-liked by pretty much anyone, but he _is_ undeniably powerful. Starscream heeds the urging of Unicron through his spark, and shelters Orion Pax. (Megatron was the previous Lord High Protector, and is very much dead. Galvatron may make an appearance if I go through the war with and have Unicron get fed up with 'Screamer, but no promises.)**

**I eventually envision this being Starscream coaching Orion through his early years as Prime, eventually instilling in him the confidence to stand on his own. I also see Starscream being a very sneaky seeker and sort-of kinda brainwashing Orion into being his idea of what a Prime should be – what that is, is as of yet unknown to me, but I'm sure it'll be interesting. This story, should I write it, will eventually culminate in Orion accepting his role as Optimus Prime. Whether or not Starscream will be his lover is something I'm not quite positive about.**

**Notes:**

***Ma'ar - I've been working on trying to invent a language for the seekers for a long time now, and wanted to have a term that referred to the '****carrier,' 'bearer,' etc. without resorting to gender-specific terminology, mostly because in the 'verses I create that will use this language there are no seeker femmes. I also didn't want to steal anyone elses terms, and there _are_ some really good ones out there. Ma'ar (pronounced My-Are) was my choice. It's a seeker-specific term, so most of the rest of Cybertron still calls their carriers 'carrier.' 'Cause you know, seekers are _unique_. XD For those who are interested, the Sire is called Mag'na and is pronouced exactly as it looks. **


	23. First Impression

**Drabble #23:** First Impression

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** "Oh, they're not designed to kill – Starscream's not that kind."

**Inspiration:** One of yet another idea I had on a different way Megatron and Starscream could have met.

**Continuity**: AU!IDW

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

The first mech to enter the arena floor to be greeted by the crowd with polite clapping, and a great deal of heckling, was a familiar mech to Megatron. Jumpstart was a solidly-built mech that was slightly taller than Megatron, and much faster. He also had better weapons, but that was mostly due to richer sponsors. They traveled and fought in different circuits, and used to be good drinking buddies – if not friends – but one didn't become the 'undefeated' champion of a division without making a few enemies along the way. Megatron had defeated and killed a mech it had been rumored Jumpstart was seriously considering making his bond-mate, and things hadn't been exactly friendly between them since.

Megatron was surprised to see Jumpstart here. The Vosnian Pit-Matches were _definitely_ outside Jumpstart's usual circuit; the larger mech had once told him that the fliers weren't much of a challenge – all one had to do was grab their pretty little wings and the match was practically over right then and there. He glanced over at Soundwave, wondering. Soundwave had told him he'd found a flier for him, a most unusual specimen that had come highly recommended, 'all things considered'. Megatron had queried that particular comment, but Soundwave could only comment that it was a direct quote.

He turned his attention back over to the arena when the crowd started going ballistic, cheering and screaming and chanting. He rebooted his optics when he saw the mech they were cheering, unable to believe that _this_ was the flier Soundwave had found him.

Tall for his kind, but also much more aerodynamically built, the seeker looked positively _tiny_ in comparison to Jumpstart. Megatron would have dismissed him entirely, would have gotten up and left right then and there, if it weren't for four things.

The first was how clearly _strange_ the seeker was. Seekers were mass-produced. As a consequence, each 'generation', while being slightly different from all the others that had come before, was identical in every way except coloration, ability, and temperament. It was easy to tell when a seeker was sparked just by looking at him. Usually. Every now and then an oddball popped up, mostly because there were several well-to-do mechs that had the funds to either commission a specially-crafted, hand-built frame for their sparkling, but sometimes on the rare occasion it was because the sparkling's abilities required excessive changes to the protoform. The seeker down below was not part of any generation of seeker-frame he knew, and he knew many. Either this seeker was far older than Megatron himself, or he was one of those rare odd-balls that popped up every other generation or so. The largest identifying clue, besides the seeker's height and slight build, which alone would have identified him as different, was the seeker's claws. Sharp and lightly curved, it was easy to see that they were designed for tearing and ripping. Seekers who had been blessed with claws in their design had straight-edged, blade-like fingers that were more like knives than claws; they were made to slash and stab.

The second was the way the seeker moved. Quick and decisive, easily shifting from pede to pede in a way Megatron had never seen another seeker move. Seeker's thrusters were exceptionally delicate, and no seeker liked to be forced to _walk_ on them. Most cheated when grounded – they used their anti-gravs to keep their weight mostly off their thrusters, which gave them an odd hopping gait that was the source of much amusement for most other builds across the whole of Cybertron. But not this one. This one walked, _really_ walked, and even though Megatron could clearly see the seeker's sky-blue thrusters as they impacted the ground, there was no sign of hesitation, no sign of pain, no sign of discomfort. There was also a certain predatory grace in the way the seeker moved, a distinctly subtle threat with every pede-fall.

The third was the way the seeker was watching Jumpstart. The seeker's optics were half-shuttered, giving the appearance of an easy-going mech unconcerned about the threat that Jumpstart represented, but Megatron was not undefeated simply because he was strongest mech out there; he had gotten where he was today because he studied his opponents almost obsessively. He knew just by looking that this seeker was studying Jumpstart, picking apart weaknesses and strengths that Jumpstart probably wasn't even aware he was revealing just by the way he moved.

The fourth was closely tied to the third; the seeker was intelligent, scarily so. Megatron could see it written across the seeker's facial platting as he mentally picked Jumpstart apart. The seeker was already running scenarios through his battle-processor, making plans and back-up plans, choreographing each move before the battle even started.

It was arrogant of the seeker to do so, but by the way the crowd was reacting, perhaps the arrogance wasn't undeserved. He decided to watch, and see for himself if the seeker was everything Soundwave had promised.

The alarm rang, signifying the beginning of the match. Jumpstart tensed, likely anticipating a full-out frontal assualt, but the seeker simply settled into a position that Megatron vaguely recalled being the opening move from a fighting-style favored by femmes because it favored control, agility, and precision over strength, power, and brute force. He wasn't really surprised – seekers were notorious for their light armor and rich sensor net-work. And this seeker, especially, was built more like a femme then Jumpstart was. Neither mech moved from their starting positions, watching each other intently. Neither mech even made the token attempt to enrage their opponents through crude taunts or dire threats.

The silence stretched between the two fighters for several long moments before the seeker briefly gestured with his claws, inviting Jumpstart to charge him. There another small moment of stillness, before Jumpstart snarled and took the seeker up on his offer. Megatron blinked. Jumpstart was fast, _very_ fast, much faster than a mech of his size should have been, and he had fully expected to see the seeker struggle to keep up when Jumpstart started his usual brawl-like fighting.

But the seeker was having no trouble whatsoever. He weaved through Jumpstart's punches with skill, if not ease. With each hit that failed to land, the seeker got inside Jumpstart's guard, quickly reaching out and tearing off a small segments of thick armor, proving just how sharp those claws of his really were. Little wounds, but deep, and the energon spilled.

Megatron frowned, though. Jumpstart's fighting style wasn't like this. Jumpstart preferred quick battles, and usually went all-out the second the fight began. And all-out meant pulling out his cannons and blowing the arena floor – and the mechs on it – to little pieces.

"Why doesn't Jumpstart just shoot the seeker and be done with it?" he asked Soundwave, quietly. Soundwave was an acknowledged technopath, but Megatron knew the blue mech was also a telepath. If anyone here would be able to tell him what Jumpstart was thinking, Soundwave would.

But apparently he'd not been quiet enough. The mech beside him – another seeker, similar-looking to the one down on the arena floor, but in black and purple – chuckled and shot him an amused glance. "You've never been to a Vosnian Pit-Match before, have you?"

Megatron never turned his gaze off the fight, watching incredulously as first Jumpstart, then the seeker pulled out energon-blades and began to trade blows. "No," he said.

The mech beside him shrugged. "In a Vosnian Pit-Match, there are certain rules of engagement here that the Kaon Arenas don't have. As Starscream is the reigning champion, he is limited to what weapons his opponent uses. As long as Jumpstart doesn't use his cannons, Starscream can't use _his_ guns, and I'd wager my life savings that's the way Jumpstart wants it."

_Starscream_. Such an interesting designation for the slight seeker. It fit him, surprisingly enough. He spared a glance for the barrels mounted on the seekers arms. They were very slim. He doubted they had enough power behind them to kill a _drone_, let alone a full-grown gladiator. "They don't look like they could do much damage."

The mech beside him laughed. "They don't, but then again they don't have to."

Interesting. "What do they do, kill on contact?"

"Oh no," the mech said, amusement still coloring his voice. "They're not designed to _kill_ – Starscream's not that kind."

Megatron shot the mech a questioning glance before returning it to the battle being waged below. Starscream had taken a few hits that were apparently deep judging from the amount of energon he was leaking, but nothing in vital areas. Even as he watched, the energon flow was starting to recede – obviously the seeker had exceptional self-repair systems. Jumpstart, unfortunately, wasn't as lucky. He had been hit as well, only more often, and in more serious places. He was losing energon faster than his self-repair systems could keep up.

The mech continued blithely. "He's a bit a curiosity in these parts, Starscream is. He was a scientist, you know. Really smart, something beyond a genius, if the rumors are to be believed. Graduated from the Iacon Academy of the Sciences at the top of his class and everything. Then he disappears for a few vorns and pops up on again attending the War Academy, of all places. Graduated the top of his class _there_, too. Then he disappears _again_, before he once again makes a high-profile appearance by challenging bots left and right to duels to the death. All within legal parameters of course, but it isn't hard to recognize a legalized murder when one sees it – a mech that skilled in combat against your average civilian can't be anything else. I'm sure you can guess what happens next?"

"He disappeared," Megatron said dryly.

"Yup. When he resurfaced two vorns ago, he didn't do anything particularly interesting, simply signed up for the Vosnian Pit-Matches and started mowing through the gladiators like they were sparklings playing at being fighters. Made a name for himself right quickly, he did," the mech said, pride coloring his voice, even as his wings perked up.

"Oh?"

"Around these parts he's called the Smiling Sadist. And it's because of that name that Jumpstart will try to win in every way he can before he'll try using his cannons."

Megatron considered this even as he considered the seeker below. There was certainly a great deal of sadism being displayed in this match – Starscream had controlled the match before it even began, obviously having been able to accurately calculate each and every move Jumpstart may have been able to make and designing an effective counter for it. But instead of ending the match quickly and decisively, the seeker chose to play with his opponent, taking him apart bit by bit. "Why?"

"Those guns mounted on his arms are called Null Rays – no one knows _exactly_ what they do, or how they work, but we can roughly infer that they somehow convert Starscream's own energy into plasma blasts that are capable not of killing, but of _paralyzing_." The black and purple seeker smiled, almost dreamily. "Can you imagine it? Being paralyzed but completely aware in the middle of a death-match? Forced to watch as your opponent takes you apart, piece by piece, unable to move, unable to scream, but perfectly capable of _feeling_. It's certainly not a way _I'd_ choose to go; it's not a way _any_ mech would chose to go, if they had half a processor with which to make the decision."

It was at that point that Jumpstart, slow on the uptake, realized he was going to die if he didn't do something soon. With a roar he jumped back and brought out his cannons, using the time he was using darting backwards to charge them.

The silence that settled over the crowd the second the cannons graced the arena was startling. Megatron took his gaze off the battle, looking around him. He felt a small shiver go up his spinal-strut at the looks on their faces – anticipation, contempt, eager hunger. The whole arena was watching silently, waiting.

"Idiot," the mech beside him said, laughing cruelly.

Megatron turned his gaze back onto the arena. The seeker raised one silver-white and blue arm and fired a single shot from the arm-cannon mounted on it. Megatron tracked the shot. He watched it strike Jumpstart just before his cannons went off, watched as Jumpstart jumped as if jolted, watched as Jumpstart very quickly lost all motor functions and collapsed in a little heap onto the arena floor.

What followed was a display of single-minded cruelty that churned Megatron's tanks to watch, though watch he did. Death didn't bother him, nor did the sight of energon. What disgusted him, what (secretly) terrified him, was the completely blank expression on the seeker's facial plating. No emotion. No hesitation. Megatron had to look away from his once acquaintance, feeling like he was going to purge. He looked at the crowd, most of which were still silent, with a few loud-mouths cheering the sadist below on. There was satisfaction and hunger on most of the crowd's faces; a few newcomers like him looked a little sick, but they also looked fascinated.

The seeker beside him nudged him gently. "Hey, don't look away now; it's almost over."

Megatron cycled air for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to the arena floor. He started. The seeker was _watching_ him. Carmine optics alight with curiosity and challenge studied him, before surprisingly full lips quirked in a small smirk. The black helm of the seeker dipped in greeting, even as one sky-blue hand reached into what was left of Jumpstart's chassis, gripped the pale, flickering spark, and ripped it out. The seeker held it aloft, and the crowd went crazy.

The seeker simply smiled at Megatron, even as the spark within his clawed grip flickered once more before dispersing.

* * *

**Alright. This originally started as a way to create a more equalized relationship between Megatron and Starscream, one built on combined respect and fear on both their parts.  
**

**It ended up (in my head) as a time-travel story in which Starscream's ghost/spark/memory-thingy decides that he's going to 'fix' things so that he doesn't end up dead - if this means accepting the fact that he's going to only be SiC, then so be it, but he'd be damned if it was going to happen on anyone's terms but his own. So he goes through his life, fixing events that he considers to be mistakes - such as befriending Skyfire - and assassinating or otherwise inconveniencing mechs that would later on turn out to be key Autobot players. A lot of his 'legalized murders' were mechs like Mirage, Hound, Wheeljack, etc., and do to the vagaries of a legal/honor system I haven't quite worked out all the kinks to, none of them could refuse the duel. After he's got the credentials and the reputation, he spends much of his time during the 'disappearances' training and educating his brothers, taking a more active interest in their general welfare than he ever had before.  
**

**The result is that when Soundwave finally comes sniffing around, as Starscream knew he would, he was fully capable of trusting Thundercracker to get the telepath's attention, and Skywarp to get Megatron interested.  
**

**And yes, the seeker next to Megatron talking Starscream up _is_ Skywarp.  
**


	24. Enter the Nightbird

**Drabble #24:** Enter the Nightbird

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** "Someone was going to die. Horribly, if he had anything to say about it."

**Inspiration:** My interpretation on Starscream's deteriorating behavior ever since Nightbird entered the equation.

**Continuity**: G1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

Although Soundwave had both the talent of telepathy and the patience to unravel even the most difficult processors, even he could admit that he was stumped when it came to the subject of his commanding officers. Megatron's mental defenses were too strong for him to bypass without alerting the Warlord as to what he was doing – and unlike Starscream, he didn't have a death wish, so crossing Megatron and ripping through those defenses was a no go – while Starscream's mind was unprotected but too fast, fragmented, and wild for him to even begin the difficult process of reading it.

Still, had he been able to read their processors and have the patience to sort through the myriad of thoughts and emotions running through them at any given moment, he would have been surprised at how in sync the two actually were in regards to each other. They were synchronized on a level that even most bonded couples had trouble reaching – when one was irritated, or feeling playful, or in the exceptionally rare mood to just talk, so too was the other.

Despite this, or perhaps because of this, the only thing the two of them would readily agree on, if asked and in a sharing mood (not that they ever were or would be), was that one belonged to the other, no ifs, ands, or buts in any way, shape, or form about it. Megatron, admittedly, had it easy in this department, as the only mech willing to defy him was Starscream himself, and no one was stupid enough to try and 'court' the temperamental seeker into their berth, regardless of how much some of them wanted the seeker there. Starscream, on the other hand, had had to grow quite adept at both finding ways to ensure that his Lord's attention never wandered for long when it did wander, as well as how to 'discreetly' murder the one who'd caught Megatron's attention in the first place.

Truth be told, he excelled in the discreet murders far better than he did in the attention-getting arena, as more often than not, his way of getting attention involved a spirited attempt to terminate Megatron. He had yet to get caught in the act of one of his murders, and he was smart enough to erase any and all evidence that he was the one to have committed the act, even though each was clearly displayed as a warning.

(No one, however, was stupid enough to believe that every single mech and femme to have graced Megatron's berth, except for Starscream himself, managed to die in a series of horrifyingly painful _accidents_. Starscream's personal favorite was the chemical reaction he'd induced by slipping a tiny additive into one femme's energon – the additive took a while to work, but it essentially turned processed energon into highly corrosive acid. The mess had taken several cycles to clean up, and the smell took a full vorn before it finally dispersed. That particular murder had done much in the way of convincing even the most stubborn mechs that Starscream was not to be crossed on the subject of just _who_ was sharing Megatron's berth, so for the most part, Starscream was capable of resting easy.)

They did hate each other, even though they had long ago realized that each of them were the other's perfect opposite, and that together they were both stronger and deadlier than they were apart. They existed in a cycle of hate-lust-peace-hate for most of their war, and it had never occurred to either of them that there was a deeper reason as to why neither had killed the other yet, even though the attempts had been made. Repeatedly. Megatron seemed to be content in just horribly mangling Starscream's frame on a semi-daily basis time and time again. And although it couldn't be proved, and no one had caught on to the fact just yet, not only was Starscream's aim always just that little bit off – despite the fact that he was one of the best marksmen amongst the Decepticons – but his plans were always just a little too overt to be anything other than subconsciously deliberate failures, especially given that he had proved time and time again that his genius, ruthlessness, and sheer creativity were unparalleled.

This single-minded determination to keep things as they were – and not where they subconsciously wanted to be – was both a credit and a detriment to them both. It was positive in that both were exceptionally vicious mechs, and neither particularly believed or trusted in the concept of 'love,' let alone that there was any other form of cohabitation other than that which they already shared, and the realization by one that the other had developed said feelings probably would have driven them both insane in their attempt to either reciprocate (not likely) or to annihilate the complication (_extremely_ likely). It was a deterrent, however, because no matter how single-minded and headstrong they were capable of being, the law of averages was squarely against them both, and sooner or later tensions and curious happenstance would raise their ugly heads and force the issue.

That it would not happen until almost 14 million years after their first so-called date – 2 cycles spent beating the living pit out of each other in front of a paying audience followed by another full cycle trying to induce the most overloads in the other – was just a testament to how stubborn the both of them truly were.

Their 'standoff' would come shattering around them, brought about by the inclusion of a human-built femme into the ranks of the Decepticons, an admittedly pretty femme by the designation of Nightbird.

And to Starscream's ever-lasting consternation, it was while watching his lord, enemy, and lover fawning over the inferior, sparkless, quasi-drone of a femme that he finally made the connection. He was in love. Not in lust – which he had long known and made peace with – but actual _love_. The revelation threw him, his processor not helping when it decided to promptly start re-categorizing all his memories to helpfully highlight just how in love with Megatron he actually was.

Someone was going to die.

Horribly, if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

**Uh, yeah. RnR?**


	25. Situational Hazards

**Drabble #25:** Situational Hazards

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** The war never left Cybertron. Optimus Prime is dead, the Decepticons broken, Starscream exiled. Skyfire faces a difficult decision, on that may very well spell the end of the peace that had been very dearly paid for.

**Inspiration:** Dubstep, if that makes any sense.

**Continuity**: AU!G1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

"I cannot take the risk! If there is even a chance that another like _him_ will raise to command, I will do everything in my power to prevent it." Zigma Prime paced back and forth gesturing wildly. "Cybertron barely survived the last war: there will _not_ be another." He whirled around and slammed his hands upon Skyfire's desk, leaning in and hissing out: "If that means I must isolate a single half-breed seeker from the whole of society, then I will. Especially considering who, exactly, carried it!"

Skyfire shuttered his optics and counted to ten, which didn't help quell the rising anger in his spark at all. He had done everything he could to keep Shootingstar away from the prejudices left over from the war, tried to give the young mech everything he would never have due to who his parents were. But Shootingstar was made for more than his lowly place as an archivist's assistant, and he had encouraged the seeker's decision to attempt to enter the still-growing academy, provided that Shootingstar only applied for the medical program. Skyfire knew how spooked most of the remaining Autobots were at the similarities between Shootingstar and his carrier, and it wasn't just looks.

Shootingstar was an almost-exact replica of his carrier, including his intelligence. The young mech was too intelligent for his own good really, but Skyfire wouldn't have it any other way. He had hoped that the fact that the seeker would be applying to a field dedicated to helping others would soften the comparisons between carrier and youngling; evidently, he'd been mistaken about that possibility ever even existing.

He looked down at the application that had been slammed down on his desk, remembering with perfect clarity the long breems spent helping Shootingstar fill it out. The applications had come in triplicate, and – if it was even possible – had become twice as difficult and tricky as it had been when he'd filled it out for himself so many ages ago. Something in his spark clenched as he finally realized that regardless of his actions, Shootingstar would never be viewed as anything other than the offspring of Starscream.

Admittedly, the fear most of the surviving populace had of Starscream and anything to do with him was not undeserved; before the end of the war, before the stray team of Autobots who'd found Skyfire buried in the ice and brought him back, Starscream had become the living nightmare of all but the most idiotic of the population. Starscream's tactics and ferocity in battle had been unmatched, and it was with no small amount of fear that most to this day refused to even speak his designation. Megatron may have had the populace's respect and hatred, but Starscream had their fear, and the two combined had swept across Cybertron in a wave of destruction that had seemed almost unstoppable.

Shootingstar wasn't his carrier though, no matter how similar the two of them appeared to be.

He clenched his servos and looked his Prime dead in the optics. "It is only because of outdated, paranoid, pessimistic, racist slaggers like you that _he_ became that mech in the first place." Unlike Zigma Prime, Skyfire did not once raise his voice, no matter how much he wanted to. He did not move around, or pace, or throw things. He kept perfectly still, outwardly calm, disallowing any attempt the Prime might make to dismiss his words as those spoken in anger. He did not want his words dismissed. "Had any of those asinine excuses for intelligent senators and council-mechs even bothered to search for me in the first place, none of this would have ever happened!"

And was it not the truth? Had Starscream been listened to all those years ago, would he not have continued to rebel against his military programing? Would he not have been so grateful to the scientists and civilians who overcame their own prejudice to trust the word of a war-build that he would have done anything for them? Skyfire personally believed that, at the very least, he could have kept Starscream out of the clutches of Megatron, could have prevented Starscream from turning into the monster he eventually became. If only he had been around...

If only, if only.

But it hadn't worked like that, had it?

Zigma Prime simply sneered. "Watch yourself, Skyfire. I am not unsympathetic to your …_situation_, but I am still Prime and you will _not_ talk to me like that." He leaned back, looking at Skyfire with an ugly expression on his face: one of smug disgust. "I've allowed you full discretion on how to raise _his_ sparkling, but do not think that I will ever allow him to enter our hallowed institutions of learning as a free citizen. And I would thank you to remember that your adoptive creation remains alive under my sufferance alone."

Skyfire stared long and hard at Zigma Prime, realizing that this was it. This was the moment where he would be forced to make the decision he'd been struggling with ever since Shootingstar had first asked him why his carrier or his sire never tried to see him. How could he tell the seeker that his sire was in a deep cryogenic sleep, never to be awoken, because no one had the nerve to kill him when Optimus Prime had failed and died in the attempt? How could he tell the seeker that Starscream had been banished from Cybertron because Starscream had experimented on himself to the point that not even cryogenic sleep worked to keep him at bay? How could he tell Shootingstar that while the seeker could feel dim echoes of his creators in his spark, neither parent were able to feel him because the bond had never had a chance to form on their end?

Starscream thought his mate and sparkling dead. Skyfire had done nothing to fix that belief; he had, in fact, encouraged it. And now look at the state of things. He had thought he could raise Shootingstar in peace and that through Shootingstar perhaps fix the prejudices that had only grown stronger since the start of the Great War. He had thought …

Well. Starscream had always called him an idiot. And staring at the face of his Prime, he could clearly, for once, see why. He had backed the wrong side, apparently.

Zigma Prime took his silence as assent. "Very well. I will show myself out." The Prime made as if to leave before pausing slightly. Quietly he added, "You would do well to keep a leash on your pet; keep him satisfied with his current lot in life. It would be such a pity if he ended up like his sire."

Skyfire watched his Prime leave his tiny office, the anger in his spark roiling. Optimus would have listened to reason, would have comprehended better than anyone else that Shootingstar was completely unlike either of his creators. For years now, Skyfire had tried to hang onto the principles that Optimus had so strongly believed in. But now...

...now, the last of his admittedly nearly-endless patience was finally reached. His gaze left the door Zigma Prime had left though and settled back on Shootingstar's application. Sighing, spark heavy, he reached out and dialed a number he never thought he'd use, a number he wasn't even supposed to know.

Not looking at the screen of his tele-comm unit, he murmured quietly, "Good morning, may I speak with Starscream please?"

* * *

***cackles***


	26. Father

**Drabble #26:** Father

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** There's a reason seekers are so different from your average mech. Megatron just hadn't realized just how correct he'd been when he'd referred to Starscream as the spawn of the Unmaker.

**Inspiration:** Eh. Just something that's been rattling around in my brain for a while. Enjoy.

**Continuity**: AU!G1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

They were arguing again, not that that was anything new to anyone watching. Starscream and Megatron had a particularly volatile relationship that only vaguely resembled anything healthy. Most mechs paid it no mind, as used to the sounds of sly sarcasm and blunt insults as they were to the sounds of Megatron's fury and Starscream's pain. Sometimes the mechs watching placed bets, not on who would win the bout – Megatron, hands down – but who would have the most creative combination of insults. Most of the time it was Starscream, but Megatron was more than creative enough if Starscream managed to only annoy the tyrant instead of absolutely torquing him.

The part that was new, the part that got everyone's attention was when Starscream cut himself off during a particularly vile string of insults, helm jerking up to stare at the ceiling with something almost like awe blossoming across the seeker's face. Everyone stared as Starscream shuddered once, hard, mouth opening as if to say something before snapping shut. No one said a word as Starscream abruptly shot an indecipherable glace at his wing-mates, then left.

It was only when Thundercracker and Skywarp rushed after Starscream, both of them in such a hurry that they were practically tripping all over the other, that the silence ceased. Theories and speculation went wild. In the center of it all sat Megatron, irritation stamped across his face-plates for all to see. And all did see it. Most even knew the cause – Megatron had been the center of Starscream's world for countless eons. There was not a cycle that went by where Starscream wasn't forcing Megatron to acknowledge him in one form or another. For the seeker to so blatantly dismiss the tyrant as if he didn't even matter...

From that cycle on, it appeared as if whatever glitch Starscream had caught was spreading amongst the seekers. Even calm, thoughtful Thundercracker and depressed, morbid Dirge were the very definition of excited. All the seekers rushed back and forth on the _Nemesis_, some carrying supplies this way and that, others cleaning – _cleaning!_ - and straightening up, still others leaving the ship at all hours of the day. There was no rhyme or reason to their movements, and despite the many orders Megatron issued on the matter, the behaviors never stopped. It didn't take long for anyone to notice that there were more seekers aboard the _Nemesis_ than there should be, and things only got more confusing from there. Their issues weren't limited to the seekers on Earth, either. Shockwave was constantly on communication-que, demanding to know where all the seekers that were currently 'invading' Cybertron were coming from.

No one had any clue.

No one could pin down a seeker long enough to get a logical answer out of them either and the few seekers that did deign to stop simply said one of two things:

"_He's_ coming. Things must be prepared."

"Ask the Winglord."

And at the center of the insanity, was Starscream. He was _still_ ignoring Megatron as if the Decepticon Warlord didn't even exist, still running around the _Nemesis_ with an almost-indescribable look of absolute _glee_ plastered across his face, still purloining supplies from Primus-only-knew-where. Megatron _tried_ to put a stop to it. He truly did. When orders didn't work, he attempted force – only it appeared as if there were more seekers with a functioning warp generator amongst the small armada of invading seekers than merely Skywarp. Any time it looked like Megatron would manage to catch a seeker and enforce his rule, a random seeker would pop up out of nowhere and pop away with Megatron's intended victim just as swiftly. It was maddening. Absolutely maddening.

Eventually even Megatron had given up, settling for watching the veritable circus with a particularly black look upon his facial plating that grew darker and more angry with every cycle that passed in which his Second in Command _ignored_ him. If the Decepticons were to be completely honest with themselves, Megatron's little sulking fit would have been absolutely hilarious if it wasn't for the fact that since the Tyrant was denied the pleasure of wringing Starscream's pretty little neck, Megatron also seemed to be settling for beating the ever-living slag out of any mech who was stupid enough to get within reaching distance of him. By the end of the first Earth-week, mechs were scrambling to be wherever Megatron wasn't. By the end of the second, only the exceptionally brave and stupid dared venture outside their quarters.

Thus, when the Nemesis' systems picked up a strange signal approaching the ship, the only mech in the Command Center to notice was Megatron, and he honestly didn't give a flying frag at this point. When the proximity alarms started going off, he glowered at the console, charged up his fusion canon, and blasted it into silence. The console gave one last dying chirp, and he blasted it again. It was at this point that fifteen seekers warped into existence in the room, each of them showing off various stages of excitement. Starscream was with them, and the usually pessimistic grouch was literally bouncing around.

"He's here. He's here!" Starscream practically sang out, and the teleports warped out, and warped back in, bringing even _more_ seekers.

Megatron growled.

Starscream turned to face him, acknowledging his presence for the first time in three Earth-weeks. He eyed the Tyrant speculatively, horror growing on his features as he took in Megatron. "What have you _done_ with yourself?!" the seeker shrieked finally.

"What?" Megatron ground out.

"_Look_ at you!" Starscream was almost instantly at his side, moving faster than Megatron had ever seen him move before. "Primus only knows you're not the greatest looking mech in the universe, but I _know_ you can clean up better than _this!_ How do you expect to make a good impression if you look like you just crawled out of the scrap-heap?"

Megatron was at his wits end. He'd barely opened his mouth to start bellowing abuse at his Second, when said Second grabbed his arm rather forcefully and started to drag him over to the main cluster of seekers.

"Skyforge, Raindancer, grab Updraft and Helix. We have less than a breem before Father gets here, and I'll be damned to the pit before I let him see my chosen Lord looking like _this_. I'll need as much help as I can get."

"Sir, yes sir!" the named seekers snapped off a salute and popped away.

"You have two klicks to explain yourself," Megatron hissed. The only reason why he wasn't beating Starscream into a pulp was because there were still almost thirty seekers in the room, and each of them was watching. As good a fighter as he was, he wasn't sure he'd be able to leave the proper lasting impression on Starscream before one of them warped away with his intended victim. But oh, what he was going to do when they all left...

"Not now," Starscream muttered. Skyforge and Raindancer warped back into existence with two seekers Megatron could only assume were Updraft and Helix, and all five seekers immediately got to work, detailing his frame with care and precision. There wasn't a nook or cranny on his entire frame that wasn't touched, examined, cleaned, and polished to a bright shine. Now, Megatron had been one of the best Gladiators to ever exist in the illegal death matches that flourished in Kaon. He was no stranger to having another mech or two detailing his frame for the exhibition matches. However, the sight of Starscream, one of the most obstinate and proud mechs he knew, willingly go down on his knees before him to start detailing his legs, clawed hands gentle and almost _worshiping_ was new territory.

His processor froze, unable to comprehend what was going on.

By the time the five seekers were done, he was still standing there, processor caught in a strange loop of surprised shock and purring contentment. His unending frustration with the insanity of the seekers had been slowly but surely conquered beneath the adept hands of five seekers pampering him. All five seekers gathered in front of him, the four strangers looking at their handiwork in awe, Starscream with smug pride.

"Yes," Starscream said, wings twitching faintly. "He'll do just fine."

Processor still loopy, Megatron allowed Starscream to grab his hand and lead him out of the Command Center and towards the turbolift doors. They were followed by the crowd of excitedly chirping seekers; the procession grew in size as the various warpers in the mix kept bringing in more and more seekers. On the last round of warps, Skywarp and Thundercracker settled on either side of Megatron and Starscream, wings flared out proudly. There the whole congregation of almost 120 seekers and one Warlord stood for almost two klicks before the turbolift doors opened.

Megatron promptly lost any feelings of contentment he had. He was not a religious mech by any means of the imagination. He did not believe in the gods of Cybertron, and did not believe in the gods of any other race he'd come across in his quest to conquer the galaxy. The idea of an afterlife where one either was sent down to the pits to suffer for all eternity or was welcomed back into the Well of Sparks to be eventually recycled into someone else was an idea he was not capable of computing. Apparently, however, the gods didn't give a flying frag on whether or not he believed in them, because there was one standing right before him.

Unicron, the Dark God, the Unmaker, the Void Bringer, the Chaos Sparked. His figure was unmistakable, his presence undeniable. For the first time in Megatron's life, he felt small and unimportant. The god was the spitting image of his statue in Axion, but so much _more_. Starscream stepped forward and dropped into a picture-perfect _sajda._* There was silence for a long moment before the Dark God smiled. "Rise, my child," the Unmaker said, voice deep and resonating to the point that Megatron could physically _feel_ it.

Starscream rose, smiling gently. "Father," he said reverently. "You honor us with your presence."

Unicron looked at the gathered seekers. "So few have come to greet me," he said. "Tell me, child. Where are your brothers? Where are your sisters? Why did none meet with me in Vos?"

Starscream's wings drooped. "Vos is dead, Father, and only memories inhabit it. My sisters are murdered, my brothers are scattered. Those that have gathered here this day are only those that I've managed to protect personally since the fall of our great city."

Unicron was silent for a moment. "You have much to tell me, it seems. That discussion will have to be had later." Unicron's burning gaze settled on Megatron, and so too did Starscream's. Megatron absently noted that Starscream shared Unicron's optical shape and the intensity of his stare. "Tell me, child, who do you present before me?"

"Father, may I present my chosen Lord?" Starscream's wings resumed their proud tilt, smug pride radiating from every inch of him.

Unicron's gaze intensified. "You have chosen then?"

"Yes."

The Dark God snorted. "We shall see if he'd good enough for my favorite child." He turned his gaze back to Starscream. "Come. Introduce me to those who've gathered here."

As the pair walked off into the crowd of seekers, followed by Skywarp and Thundercracker, Megatron absently wondered what Starscream had just gotten him into.

* * *

**I offer no excuses. Enjoy and rnr!**

**Notes:**

_***Sajda**_** (plural **_**Sajadat**_**) is the form of prostration in the Islam religion which is used to praise, glorify and humble oneself in front of Allah, and are a vital part of the five obligatory ****prayers**** performed daily; this is deemed obligatory for every ****Muslim**** whether the prayers are being performed individually or in congregation. **

**I decided to purloin this form of prostration for this universe, and by no means do I mean any disrespect by doing so. **

**In this universe, while the whole of Cybertron worships and praises Primus, most consider Unicron as little more than a villain – they often forget that he is a god as well, the equal and opposite of Primus, and a vital part of the balance. If any do worship him, it is with great reluctance and no small amount of anger. The seekers are hated and feared by most of the Cybertronian population because they alone worship Unicron with the fervor and passion that everyone else saves for Primus. **

**Because the two gods are opposites, in my mind that this means that whereas Primus sleeps away the ages and occasionally provides divine intervention through the Primes and the matrix, Unicron is an active player in Cybertronian history. When the Primes originally created the seekers, they were little more than sparkless drones. Unicron saw in their form great potential, and was the key to their becoming; both in their gaining sparks of their own and becoming fully sentient. Do to their respect and worship, he tends to favor the seekers above all others, and has been known to occasionally lay with whomever catches his fancy. Though he has done so many a time, he has only had two or three sparklings born from such a union, and Starscream is both the youngest and the only living one. So while he considers all seekers to be his children, Starscream is his favorite one because he is his actual child. **

**This also plays into my personal head-fannon that Starscream's "immortality" steams from some sort of divine parentage, and considering his nature and behaviors, I cannot see Primus being the one to have sparked him. **


	27. Situational Hazards, pt 2

**Drabble #27:** Situational Hazards, pt. 2

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:** The war never left Cybertron. Optimus Prime is dead, the Decepticons broken, Starscream exiled. Skyfire faces a difficult decision, one that may very well spell the end of the peace that had been very dearly paid for.

**Inspiration:** Dubstep, if that makes any sense.

**Continuity**: AU!G1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

The matter of tracking down Starscream was not as difficult as it should have been. Despite their history and the way Starscream had changed since the time Skyfire had known him best, Skyfire had kept an interested audial out for any and all information related to the banished seeker. News trickled in slowly at first, but as Cybertron began to resettle into a life that was not based around factions and wars, more and more shuttles were being sent out into space to contact other species in search of trade agreements.

Since then, news hit like a tidal wave.

Starscream had never been one to rest idly on his aft – he'd always been a blur of constant motion, if not in body then in mind. In the twenty vorns since his banishment, Starscream had started a manufacturing company that dealt mainly in weapons and pharmaceuticals, but also covered things like bio-technology, transportation, and …. Starscream also had a heavy hand in the black market, selling anything and everything he could get his hands on. In twenty vorns, Starscream had built a financial empire that practically owned half of the known universe and was feared throughout the other half.

Finding him was easy under those circumstances. Getting ahold of him was an entirely different matter. Skyfire left messages, played comm-tag with secretaries, and out-right bullied his way through the chain of command. He felt vaguely guilty about doing so, but Shootingstar was worth more than his pride or his ethics. He had failed his ward, and the injustice of just how severely he had done so was only now starting to rear its head.

This was part of the reason why he said nothing at first during the first time in twenty vorns that he saw his once-friend. Starscream looked good – he'd always looked good – and vaguely impatient, which was understandable, considering both how large his financial empire was and how hands-on the seeker tended to be. Starscream likewise was rather silent, staring at him impassively. "So it is you," the seeker said eventually. "What do you want?"

Skyfire sighed. "Starscream, please. Now is not the time to be difficult." Although he didn't blame him, not after what had been said the last time they'd ever spoken. Some things couldn't be forgotten or taken back, no matter how long had passed by since the words had been said.

"Difficult?" Starscream snapped. "I answered the call, didn't I? I could have let you play comm-tag with my various secretaries for several vorns before deigning to respond. Trust me, _old friend_, you don't know the _beginning_ of difficult."

Skyfire stiffened. "Don't call me friend if you're going to say it like that," he said.

Starscream smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. Something not unlike hate, but quieter and stronger than hate ever could be, made his optics burn. "Like what, Skyfire?" the seeker asked. "Like I _loathe_ you? Considering our history, and what happened the last time I bothered to speak to you, you're lucky I'm not saying _worse_. Now what do you want? I haven't got all day to waste on the likes of you."

Well. He'd deserved that. If he was completely honest with himself, he likely did deserve worse. "There's a situation I think you need to be aware of," he finally said.

Starscream snorted. "Your petty Prime finally going to come hunt me down?" His cruel smile grew, revealing serrated denta that Skyfire knew he hadn't had the last time he'd seen the seeker. "I must say he's a bit late to the party."

"No," Skyfire denied. "It's not Zigma Prime." He stopped and thought about that for a click, before slowly starting again. "Well, it is but – "

"And why should I be interested in anything that happens over there?" Starscream interrupted.

Skyfire paused. It wasn't too late, he could still keep Starscream ignorant, could keep his great deception a secret. He could, it would be so easy, but did Shootingstar deserve that? He looked at Starscream, wondering how much of Starscream's lingering sanity had been lost upon waking up in an Autobot cell only to learn that the mate he'd finally consented to have had been executed and the sparkling he hadn't even known about aborted. How much would have been different if he'd allowed Starscream to claim Shootingstar? Could he honestly say that Shootingstar was happy with the way things were, wondering about the creators he didn't know but could still feel? Could he honestly say that Shootingstar didn't chafe under the numerous restrictions that he had to deal with just to be allowed to live?

He couldn't, not really. "He wasn't killed, Starscream," he admitted quietly. "Neither of them were."

There was a deep lasting silence, and Starscream's face became a thundercloud of rage and fury unlike anything Skyfire had ever seen. Old pain, old hurts, ripped open and displayed prominently for any and all to see; Starscream's rage was only made stronger by the pain. "…_Liar_," the seeker hissed, voice quiet, body still, optics burning.

Skyfire winced. Starscream had a temper – anyone and everyone knew that. He screeched and shouted and screamed at anything and nothing, losing his cool quicker than one could shutter their optics. It was only when Starscream was quiet that anyone really had cause to be worried – a Starscream shouting was a Starscream who had lost sight of the bigger picture, one who acted rashly and without thinking; a quietly raging Starscream was a Starscream eerily focused and pushed beyond all sense of reason. The last time Skyfire had seen Starscream this angry, he'd nearly blown up Cybertron. The seeker had been armed with nothing more than his own intelligence and a crippled alien, and yet it had taken the combined might of Megatron and Optimus Prime and their respective armies to stop Starscream's plans. And even then, it had almost been too late.

Now there was no Optimus Prime, and Megatron was as good as dead, for all the help he could provide.

"They weren't," he said beseechingly. "Megatron is currently locked away in a maxim-level prison in deep cryogenic sleep. And your sparkling… he's named Shootingstar. Zigma Prime lied to you, and I…" He trailed off, unable to say the words.

He didn't have to.

"You _helped_," Starscream whispered, voice strangled by the sheer rage he was undoubtedly feeling. "You stole my sparkling, imprisoned my mate, and _dare_ tell me only _now_?" Starscream grabbed the screen with deadly claws – also a new addition since the last time Skyfire saw him – and brought it closer, so that all Skyfire could see now was Starscream's enraged face. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't call in every favor I'm owed and have you and that Primus-forsaken scrap-heap annihilated right now."

"Because I'm the only guardian your sparkling has ever known, and the only reason either of them weren't killed." His reason was a simple one, but it would be enough to stall Starscream's vengeance – which _would_ come.

Sure enough, Starscream's face cleared of any emotion, though his optics still burned with the force of his hate. There was a long considering silence. Then: "…Tell me."

* * *

***cackles***


	28. Irritum

**Drabble #28:** Irritum

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary:**

-Nothingness.-

Megatron is afraid of nothing, hesitates because of nothing.

_"What is your gift?"_  
_"Nothing."_

**Inspiration:** I don't know. Just a thought that grew a little too large for its britches when I was trying to write the next chapter of The Difficulty in Letting Go.  
This will likely never be continued, and it is as finished as it's going to get for now. If someone wants to flesh this out a bit and breathe true life into it, be my guest!

**Continuity**: AU!IW

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

I.

"Where is he?" Megatron demands, voice heavy with the panic that is racing through him.

Vos is gone; the Autobots have done the unthinkable and not only bombed Vos, but also Vo'Sil, the little town to the East of Vos to which all seekers and seeker-kin sent their sparklings and younglings, noble-born and gutter-born alike, so that trines may form in safety and without pressure. All eighty-nine of the seekers under Starscream's command, every last one of them hand-chosen and trained by the seeker to be the first squadron in Megatron's army, are half-mad with grief. And Starscream, his Air Commander, cannot be found.

Starscream has not been seen or heard from since three joors before the news broke. Megatron thinks, no, _knows_ that somehow Starscream knew the second the attack happened, knew the second that over 36,000 adult seekers and seeker-kin were wiped out of existence, knew the second that just under 1,000 sparklings and younglings were exterminated for crimes they didn't even know about. Somehow, Starscream knew.

And that fills Megatron with more fear than he cares to admit. He doesn't even once entertain the idea that Starscream helped plan the attack – if there is one thing he knows of Starscream, it is that his seeker is almost fanatic about the protection of his frame-kin. What fills his spark with dread is the knowledge that for as strong as Starscream pretends to be, the seeker is actually very fragile emotionally – the losses he'd suffered prior to becoming Megatron's lover leaving him a strange, warped perversion of everything he should have been. Megatron loves and wants him regardless, but he cannot pretend that sometimes he doesn't wander what it would be like between them if Starscream was sane and whole.

And now the Autobots have stolen the one thing Starscream had left.

So, yes. Megatron is scared. He is scared that he will find his seeker too late, that Starscream will have finally jumped over that final precipice that is all that separates him from the deep abyss of madness, that Starscream will have moved on and gone to a place that Megatron could not follow, would not follow because there is too much left to be done before he joins his ancestors in the Well of Sparks.

It takes longer than he likes for Soundwave to locate Starscream, but thankfully the seeker is close by. He rushes to the landing strip of the their current base (it is actually all that remains of the shopping district of whatever small town they're in, flattened beneath the storm of artillery fire and mechs much larger than civilians were used to), and there he finds Starscream. And for a moment, just a brief moment, he wishes he honestly had not found his wayward seeker.

Starscream is not half-mad with grief. He is not half-mad with anger, or rage, or despair, or any emotion Megatron would expect to see from his emotional wreck of a lover. Starscream is …_empty_. He is standing ever so still on the landing strip, wings held high and proud as they ever were. His hands are relaxed by his sides, and for once his claws – wickedly sharp and quite deadly – have been retracted. His facial platting is the very picture of serenity, his mouth turned in a slight, bemused smile.

But it is his optics that makes Megatron stop abruptly, spark clenching in sharp terror. There is _nothing_ in his seeker's optics. A great void looks at him, endless and empty.

"Starscream?" he queries, voice soft.

Starscream remains still, remains silent. He does not move, does not twitch, does nothing to acknowledge that Megatron is there.

"Starscream?" he tries again, louder this time, walking steadily towards his seeker.

This time something flickers within his seeker's optics, and the fear in Megatron's spark grows. There is the strange sensation of heaviness in the air, a weight that grows thicker the closer Megatron gets. He thinks it is the fear that gives the sensation of something _other_ watching him through his seeker's optics, as if the abyss within Starscream's gaze is now watching him, weighing, judging.

"They bombed Vos," Starscream says, voice as pleasant as if he is merely commenting on the weather.

"Yes," Megatron answers.

Starscream humms and his wings flutter slightly. "They should not have done that." His helm cocks to the side, smile still slight, facial plating serene. "They will regret doing that."

Something about the way Starscream says this causes alarm bells to ring within his mind. Megatron forces himself to walk that last little distance between them, reaching out and grabbing one of Starscream's listless hands. "Starscream," he says cautiously. "What have you done?" and this time he cannot hide the fear (for himself, for Cybertron, but most of all for Starscream) he feels when the seeker allows him to do so.

They are lovers, and Megatron knew his seeker's idiosyncrasies better than any other living mech. Starscream, for all that he could be affectionate when the mood struck him, for all that he could do things with his hands and mouth that left Megatron dizzily sated for joors afterward, hated being touched without permission. Most times Megatron touched him whenever he felt like it anyway, mostly because Starscream in a snit is an absurdly _cute_ Starscream, but this passive allowance is so far out of character as to be another mech.

Starscream's smile widens at the sight of his fear. "Shh…" the seeker hushes him, voice gentle. "It will be all right soon. Soon, they will all regret crossing the seeker-kin, crossing _me_."

Starscream's helm tilts sharply for a second, and then his smile becomes fierce and the abyss fades from his optics, leaving them blazing with hatred and triumph and _life_. He raises one hand, pauses for a second, and then snaps at the same time he laughingly shouts: "NOW!"

There is silence, and then –

Fire_,_ is Megatron's first thought, but no _fire_ is the bright color of liquid mercury. No mere _fire_ causes a great, heated cloud of ash and smoke so great that it completely blocks out the sun_. _Megatron stares uncomprehendingly at the horizon behind the seeker, which has just exploded in bright, heated light. He knows the sound of explosions, knows the sight of fire, knows the scent of burning metal. What he hears, what he sees, what he smells on the wind is no fire.

"What have you done?" he asks again, dropping his seeker's limp hand and backing away.

Starscream simply smiles.

II.

He gets the reports the same time as many of his troops. Half of Cybertron – Iacon, Polyhex, Praxus, Axion, Trion, Tryptus, and so many other city-states and small towns – is gone. No rubble or debris, no corpses, no survivors. There are no craters, no cracks, no burns. It is as if every last town and mech within it simply disappeared. He is bewildered, and more afraid than ever. There is no logical explanation to what he has seen, no logical explanation for what the reports tell him.

The Autobot Senate, in order to combat the growing threat of the Decepticons, in order to remove the one race of mechs that not only were more than likely to be entirely sympathetic to the Decepticon cause but who also had a long and torrid history of uprisings, rebellions, and out-right treason against the Senate and the Dynasty of Primes before, ordered the complete annihilation of Vos and Vo'sil. They succeeded beyond their wildest dreams, as the current Winglord of the city-state had recalled all seekers and seeker-kin from their whereabouts all across Cybertron, issuing a statement that any who did not return were to be exiled from seeker society for all time.

Starscream had not left, and despite the threat of exile, those seekers he had hand-trained had stayed as well. In the upcoming weeks since the bombing more and more would make themselves known, having turned from their culture and heritage and everything they had ever known, choosing Starscream over the rightful Winglord of Vos. But these seekers are paltry few, and none are capable of bearing the next generation. They are the last seekers, all 147 of them, and there will never be another.

And in response, somewhere between the time it took the news to travel to the Decepticon base of Vos' eradication and the time it took Megatron to realize that no one had seen his Second in Command for quite some time, Starscream had retaliated with extreme prejudice.

"What did you do, Starscream?"

Starscream looks at him, and smiles. And in that smile, and in those intense crimson-optics, there is the suggestion of _otherness_, and at the edges Megatron can see hints of the great abyss he saw that day. "All seekers are sparked with a gift, Megatron. Our Sigma ability, if you will." He steps closer to Megatron, slowly placing his hands on Megatron's broad shoulders and sliding them back around Megatron's neck until he has come as close as his cockpit will allow. "My care-takers were most disappointed by my gift when I was sparked."

"What is your gift?" he asks warily. He thinks of Skywarp, Starscream's pseudo-brother, who can teleport. He has always thought Skywarp's ability to be something designed around his high energy fluctuations and intricate thinking processes, but if what Starscream is implying is true, it likely the other way around.

"_Nothing_," Starscream whispers to him.

Megatron doesn't understand, but Starscream is in one of his moods, and all Megatron can do is hold on and enjoy. And he does, very much so, even if at the back of his processor there lingers the nagging thought that he has missed something very, very important.

III.

"Why do you allow him to do this, Megatron? He needs to be stopped, once and for all!"

Megatron sighs, and leans forward, bracing his helm on his hands as he tries to ignore the growing processor-ache. "And what would you have me do?" he asks slowly.

"Kill him!" comes the snarled answer, and at it Megatron sighs.

"It is not that simple," he says.

"What are you so afraid of?" comes the curious tones of one of his guards. "He is just another mech, isn't he? What threat could he possibly be to you?"

Megatron sighs again. "Nothing," he says, and there is a slight tremor in his voice that makes the other mechs – each chosen for their calm, rational thought processes and sound advice – look at each other in confusion. "I am afraid of nothing; I linger on the prospect of killing Starscream once and for all because of _nothing_."

"I don't understand," another says quietly.

"Neither did I, at first," Megatron says. "But I mean 'nothing' in the literal sense. I am afraid of the void within Starscream, the great abyss that he alone contains." He gives up trying to soother the growing processor-ace as a bad job and raises his helm to stare bleakly at his council. "He erased half of Cybertron in less than five joors. No corpses, no shells, no broken buildings or misplaced rubble. It was as if that part of Cybertron had never once been developed by mechs."

He smiles, bitterly. "I allow him to do as he wills because what can I do against a mech who could not just kill me, but erase my very existence and those of all the people I swore to lead to greatness?" He looks at each of them, sees the understanding dawning on their facial plating by the grim expressions of horror that are beginning to bloom, and asks, plaintively, "What am I supposed to do?"

They have no answer for him.


	29. Comforting Prime: Protecting Prime, pt2

**Drabble #29:** Comforting Prime

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **"Tell me Orion, why are there two of us?"

**Inspiration:** The second part of Protecting Prime. Was originally supposed to be one of the many teaching sessions between Starscream and Orion Pax/Optimus Prime, but the both of them had other ideas. XD

**Continuity**: AU!G1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

"You are almost ready to take on the full mantle of your position, Orion. How do you feel?"

Orion turned at the sound of his Protector, offering him what no-doubt was an extremely queasy-looking smile. "Nervous," he replied. "But …" He places a hand against his chassis, feeling the warm pulsing of his spark and the gentle throbbing of the Matrix contained within. It had taken him a long time to get used to the twin spark-pulses, even longer to feel them without flashing back to the night he had been stolen from his home, the night that started this whole adventure. His god was pleased with him, he knew. "I feel settled."

Starscream nodded. "Content, yes?"

"Yes."

The seeker walked over to the windows Orion stood before, looking out at the thriving city-state that was Cybertron's capital, Iacon. It was a breathtaking view on the worst of days, and today it practically radiated with the joy of its citizens. While the Lord High Protector was respected – read 'feared' – the Prime was loved. Orion had yet to be fully introduced to the people he would be leading, but the reporters even now waited in the hall below, ready for his first interview.

Starscream looked at the view, but gave no indication that it amazed him in any way. Starscream was often life that, Orion had noted. He put on a great show of normality, but Orion suspected that Starscream had been Chosen by Unicron because he was as close as one could get to being a sociopath without losing some intrinsic understanding of emotions.

"You have learnt well, Orion," Starscream finally said, voice bland. "You have devoted yourself to the lessons I taught, and have applied yourself well to learning things I could not teach." Starscream smiled at him, gently, but there was little warmth in his optics. Orion didn't let it bother him. It was enough that Starscream thought him important enough to try. "There is but one more lesson yet for you to learn, and it your most important one. No matter what happens, no matter what may come, I promise you that if you remember this you will be one of the best Primes to have ever lived."

Orion straightened, and waited. Ever since Starscream had made good on his promise to the council, Orion had learned well and good that Starscream never made promises unless he could keep them. The Senate had doubted him, had pushed when Starscream had tried to let peace exist between them, and they had paid for their foolishness. Consequently, it also drove home the point that Starscream had been trying to tell him over and over: they were no longer mere mechs. They were the Chosen of their respective gods, and as long as their gods were happy, they were in a league untouchable by others. He will never forget the sight of Starscream stalking down the halls of the Sacred Spires, the power of Unicron's fury covering him in a thick miasma that _absorbed_ anything that hit it – from data pads to laser fire. There were only three survivors of that purge, all three older mechs bordering on the edges of ancient, each who surrendered the second they saw the seeker stalking down the halls, leaving dead – and _worse_ – in his wake.

Since then, Starscream had been handling the day-to-day running of Cybertron pretty much single-handedly, with Orion following him eagerly, learning from both Starscream's many lectures and from hands-on experience (once Starscream thought him capable enough). He had been given more and more responsibilities over the past couple of vorns, and now he was finally ready to step out on his own and take up the mantle of Prime.

"Why are there two, Orion?" Starscream asked him.

The question startled him, made his thought processes halt for a second before struggling to comprehend his mentor and friend's question.

His confusion must of shown on his face, because Starscream clarified, "Why not just a Prime, or just a Protector? When you get right down into the thick of things, why are there two of us? All Cybertronians are equally children of Unicron and Primus; maybe once upon a time there would have been a need for such a distinction, but why now?"

"Tradition?" he guessed.

Starscream snorted. "They are gods, Orion. If they so choose, they could wipe us out and start anew." He shook his helm. "No, they have no need of tradition. Furthermore, Unicron is _Chaos_ personified, he of all beings would abhor the senseless practice known as 'tradition'. So really, why? Why _two_?"

Orion thought, carefully this time. There was a strange weight to the air around them, and he was experienced enough now to know that one or both gods were taking a personal interest in this conversation. He had a feeling that his answer would make or break him. Regardless of that, it was a good question. Starscream had nurtured in the un-educated mechling he used to be an avid desire to _know_, igniting a fierce passion for history and a taste for philosophical and ethical debates. Starscream liked to indulge him in his interests, and so Orion chose to treat this as just another informal debate between them, choosing to ignore the attention of the gods.

"I suppose," he started slowly, "that it has to do with the natures of the gods and their respective powers. You told me once that we are both equal and opposite in all things as Chosen; that were as I wield defensive energies, yours are offensive in nature, where I am an empath, you are a projector, etc., etc."

"Hmmm," Starscream hummed noncommittally. "That is part of it, yes," he allowed. "We are the central figures in our society, Orion, yet we are also marginal, separated from others by the extraordinary nature of our powers and our personalities. Even if at the end of the day we are still just mechs, children of Unicron and Primus both; even if we are still students, artists, workers; even if we are still normal in every respect but that one – we still retain that constant awareness of the god who calls to us. Our abilities, our knowledge, our powers and strength of will are often opposed in pairs and expressed simultaneously: both healer and destructor, mortal and divine, cultured and primal. We move through and exist outside of all classes and frame-types. We are of them, and not of them, and this will never seem as apparent as the first time you go to have a conversation with another mech and realize that you are intrinsically different from them, that you seem somehow removed from their sphere of consciousness." Starscream smiled somewhat bitterly. "So tell me, Orion, why are there two of us?"

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

Starscream nodded, as if expecting this answer. "Orion, no, _Optimus Prime_, there are two of us because neither god is cruel by nature or stupid by design. To have but one mech so separated by the very society that he is supposed to govern is asking for trouble, especially when one considers that just because they exist in relative peace does not mean that either typically gets along." Starscream's tone took on a lecturing note. "They argue about almost everything, and part of the reason we exist is to navigate through their disagreements until we find a compromise that suits both gods. But more to the point, there are two of us because no mech should have to be that isolated. I want you to remember this above all things, Optimus Prime: no matter what may come, there will always be one who understands what you are going through, what you will have to do, and what your god will demand of you. No matter how it feels at times, remember, _you are never alone_."

Orion smiled, the nervousness in his spark fading as if it had never been. He felt truly content for the first time in many years. "Thank you, Starscream." For more than just soothing him, he wanted to say. For protecting him all those vorns ago, for teaching him to the best of his abilities, for nurturing in him a love of Cybertron and its peoples that his attack had stolen from him. For everything. The heavy feeling in the air was dissipating, and deep within his spark, he felt the gentle approval of Primus.

Starscream nodded once in acknowledgement. "Shall we go?" he asked, gesturing to the hall where the press was waiting to be introduced to their finally full-fledged Prime.

Optimus Prime cycled air for a brief moment, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "Let's go."

And if during the conference he reached out and grasped Starscream's hand, and if Starscream allowed him to do so with nothing more than a brief smile that never quite reached his optics and a gentle squeeze, well. That was no one's business but theirs.

* * *

**I have a lot of feels about this verse, and a lot of thoughts about it as well. I just don't know how to piece it all together into a coherent whole. So, until I can figure that out, I'll just upload pieces here and get some reader responses. 'Cause it definitely needs some. **


	30. Working For It

**Drabble #30:** Working For It

**By:** Ceris Malfoy

**Summary: **One doesn't just become the Second in Command of the Decepticons; same with the position of Air Commander. One has to work for that distinction. Some just work differently than others.

**Inspiration: **This was originally supposed to be a response to a challenge issued by a Transformers community on DeviantArt. The challenge acknowledged that the common fan-base believed that Starscream earned his position by climbing through the ranks. The challenge asked us to come up with another way that Starscream could have earned those positions. I never did manage to finish this in time for the challenge, so I had fun changing a few things that wouldn't have worked otherwise.

Enjoy!

**Continuity**: AU!IDW

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

When Megatron retired to his quarters, it was with the overwhelming sense that he was completely screwed. Exhausted didn't quite cover exactly how tired he was, how ready he was to just surrender and give up on his plans for Cybertron and the universe afterwards. The war he'd so painstakingly crafted out of others' miseries and petty squabbles was in the process of blowing up in his face, and he didn't quite know how to stop it. It didn't help matters that his lieutenants were all fragging morons.

His Third was a sycophantic yes-mech, his Second was one step away from being executed for sheer stupidity, his Air Commander was just barely tolerable, and his CSO was …creepy.

_Really_ creepy.

Creepy enough that Megatron had the entire corridor before his quarters booby-trapped to the pit and back. The term 'overkill' could clearly be applied to both the quantity and the mortality of those traps, which was why he nearly shot the seeker sitting carelessly behind his desk the second he saw him. It was only familiarity with this particular seeker that stilled his hand. He sighed. Starscream was a pleasure-bot he'd run into during his days in the arena; he'd liked the snarky seeker's no-nonsense behaviors and cruel sense of humor so much he'd bought the seeker's contract off of Lockdown as soon as he had managed to gather the funds to pay the rather outrageous price.

"What are you doing here?" he asked wearily, not really surprised that the seeker had managed to get through his traps – Starscream was irritatingly hard to pin down for very long regardless of what one used, and he knew better than to think that the ability to get _out_ didn't bleed over into the ability to get _in_. Still, the last time he'd seen the seeker was just before he'd declared war on the Autobots by assassinating most of the Senate and Sentinal Prime some two or three vorns ago.

The seeker looked up from the data-pad he was reading, irritated and angry. "Your Air Commander's a fragging moron," the seeker said by way of answer, which really wasn't an answer at all.

Megatron snorted, not thinking twice about turning his back to the seeker as he went over to his energon stash to get a cube of high-grade, brow-ridge twitching when he noticed that Starscream had apparently already helped himself to a cube or two. "You think I don't know that?" he muttered. Louder, "That didn't answer my question, seeker. What are you doing here?"

Starscream smiled at him, and it wasn't a friendly smile by any stretch of the imagination. He was angry, and in one corner of his processor Megatron was aware of the desire to just curl into a tiny ball on his berth and cry. _Nothing_ was going right, and when the one figure that was guaranteed to relax him – in one way or another – finally bothered to show up, he was angry. Megatron didn't know which of the gods he had torqued off, but he wished they would just put him out of his misery already. Instead of acting on this desire, however, he took a long pull from his high grade and waited for the tirade that was sure to come.

"You bought my contract, remember?" The seeker's smile grew wide enough to show off those disturbing denta of his – multiple rows of serrated edges that reminded the Tyrant of a Sharkticon's denta. "Where else would I be?"

Megatron shot the seeker an irritated glare. "If I had wanted you here I would have sent for you long ago. What possible use could I have for a pleasure-bot in the midst of war?"

The seeker snorted, tossing down the data-pad and leaning back in the too-large chair. "Is that what you're calling it? A war? _Please_, Megatron. I may be a pleasure-bot, but I wasn't sparked yesterday. This is little more than a rebellion, and your so-called soldiers are little more than thugs with a particularly strong sadistic streak. _War_. Bah!"

Starscream stood up and walked around the desk, pausing just before the front edge. He smiled again, cold and cruel and endlessly angry. "Now, admittedly it took me awhile to decide how I felt about you buying my contract, ensuring that no one would pick me up or take me on without your express permission, and then up and abandoning me without so much as a thought as to how I would be able to get enough energon for myself, let alone my brothers who were, if you recall, recovering from extreme regenerative surgery after their stupid afts torqued off the wrong mechs and thus unable to do much of anything to support themselves."

Megatron winced. Yeah, he could see why the seeker might be a little angry. He hadn't even considered what just picking up and leaving would do to the seeker, or his brothers. To be completely honest, until the seeker showed up in his rooms and shoved it in his face, he hadn't even really cared either. "So how _did_ you survive?" he queried, curious in spite himself. Kaon had become rather … unstable in the past several vorns, and that was a long time to survive unable to work for energon.

Starscream lost his smile and simply stared at him. The seeker's optics burned with the force of his anger. For a single, brief moment in time, Megatron saw not just anger, but out-right hatred. It shook him. "By any means I deemed necessary," the seeker finally said, tone dark and promising. It was the only warning he would ever receive from the seeker. Megatron didn't pay it any mind then, however, because the seeker was already leaving, all fluid movements and predatory grace.

He only remembered the threat when the next time he summoned his Air Commander to make his displeasure known over a few of the idiot's decisions, and was greeted not by Venture and his trine, but Starscream and his. All three held their wings at a proud angle, and all three were splattered with fresh energon. In the purple brother's hands were his Air Commander's head and a spark-chamber he could only assume to belong to the same mech. In the blue brother's hands was the helm of his Second in Command, and he too held a spark-chamber. Starscream held nothing, but then again, he didn't have to. The two seekers that framed him had energon splattered on their frames, but Megatron could tell from just a glance that it was because they'd been too close to whomever was doing the bleeding. Starscream, however…

If his two brothers were splattered in energon, Starscream was _drenched_ in it. The stuff was particularly heavy on his clawed hands, which were spread open in a gesture of peace and amused supplication. It was Starscream's face that convinced him on who did the murdering though. While the purple seeker was smiling – most likely too simple to understand the very delicate line they were walking – and the blue one was visibly uneasy, Starscream smiled, all teeth and anger and deadly intent.

"So," Starscream said, voice smug and challenging. "I heard you were in need of a _competent_ Air Commander and Second in Command." He shrugged lightly, keeping his deadly claws in front of him, a dripping, silent reminder that while Megatron had known and experienced the pleasure they could bring, they were more than effective as a weapon and that the mech they were attached to was more than just a pleasure-bot. "I've come to fill in the openings." There was a small pause. "If _my Lord_ will have me?"

He knew this was going to come back and bite him on the aft, but what else could he do? Thanks to Starscream he was down by both his Air Commander and Second, and he had no one to replace them with – one of the main reasons they had lasted this long to begin with. Starscream it was.

* * *

**...admit it, you thought this was going to be porn, didn't you?**


End file.
